


The Hardest Decisions

by Okamichan6942



Series: Tying Up Loose Ends [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Determinator Fail, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Not A Healing Factor, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Stealing MCU tags for non-MCU fics, Which is What MJ Is There For, accelerated healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-03-26 15:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okamichan6942/pseuds/Okamichan6942
Summary: The aftermath of Peter's decision at the end of the game. Massive spoilers... Why are you even reading this if you haven't finished the game??





	1. The Nightmares Begin

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously just wrote this for the end. Sadly for you guys that's four chapters away from you. Happily for you guys that chapter is written. Still doing that thing where I'm grabbing from scenes in the games. Not apologizing. Won't be the last either. Also, who else was absolutely frustrated by the damned time skips at the ending? *raises her hand* *proceeds to use time skips, chortling like a goofball* Upload schedule? What's an upload schedule?
> 
> LAST WARNING THAT THIS IS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE GAME

“H-How long will that take?”

Dr. Michaels held a gun aimed at Peter’s heart, and shot with surgical accuracy. That was how Peter registered the man’s words, like a shot that pierced his sternum and flew through his heart. 

“A few hours, maybe a day.” 

Bang. The breath left Peter’s lungs and he couldn’t inhale or he’d sob. Spider-man didn’t know this woman, and he would  have no reason to cry just for her . But Peter wanted to break down and wail. He didn’t look at Aunt May, and his voice cracked only a little. “What if we use it to cure someone right now?”

Dr. Michaels shook his head. “Then there won’t be enough to cure the others.”

Bang. 

Peter glanced at the hectic mess on the ground floor of the shelter. All the people, sick and dying from the virus. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Even the constant agony of pain echoed distantly around his body. He couldn’t stop looking between the scattered mass and his Aunt. His responsibilities. He had to choose?  _ He had to choose?! _

_ The claw crushed him against the building; robbing Peter of his breath. _

Dr. Michaels got up. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said as he left May’s office.

The antiserum bottle squeaked in his grip, and he had to look down and force his fingers to relax. He couldn’t break it, not now. Not after, everything he’d gone through to get it. 

“ _I won’t let you win. This means too much to me!”_

Aunt May shifted on the bed; awake then.

Spider-man-who didn’t know this woman, he had to remind himself- stepped closer, but Peter’s voice broke as he tried to comfort her. “You’re going to be okay ma’am. I’ve got the cure right here,” he said as he knelt down next to the bed.

Aunt May blinked up at him, complexion pale, skin waxen and eyes hollowed by black circles. “Take off your mask,” she said, her voice a weak rasp.

Spider-man drew back a little at that odd request, but her next words struck Peter worse than any blow Octavius had landed. Worse than the accusation of _betraying_ the man he’d respected most.

“I want to see my nephew.”

Peter reached up and slid the mask off. He had to compose himself, before he could meet her eyes. “You knew?” 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she stared up at him, unblinking, as though she had to get her fill of him now or she’d never have another chance. “I’ve known for a while.”

Peter choked back a sob. He had to blink back the tears that blurred his vision. “I never wanted you to worry.”

“I did,” she said, shooting another pang through Peter’s breaking heart. “And I am so proud of you. And Ben would be too. All the people you saved.”

Peter grit his teeth, panic making his heart race. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted to her, hot tears rolling unhindered down his face.

She blinked at him and her eyes widened. Then her face softened, and she gave him the barest of smiles. “Yes, you do.” She broke into a coughing fit, turning away, clutching at her chest, and covering her mouth.

The blood that appeared on her hand drove him to action. Peter shot to his feet, fingers clenching the bottle. He stood before the bag hanging from the pole, the access port in his fist before he knew what he was doing. Then he did know what he was doing, and how could he do that to everyone? To MJ, (MJ!) who needed this vaccine or she’d be next. To Miles. Rio. Gloria. Robby. Betty. Even goddamn Jameson didn’t deserve to suffer from the Devil’s Breath virus. Save Aunt May at the cost of everyone else?

How could he do that to Aunt May? What would she think if he did that, even though it would be for her? If he saved her at the cost of everyone else in the city, would she hate him? Would it be worth it?

He ached with the need to save his only family member. Without Aunt May, why did Peter need to exist?

Spider-man wouldn’t sacrifice so many people to save one. 

Only himself.

Letting go of the IV line was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Furious at the fates that laughed down at him, Peter slapped the bottle down, careful not to slam it. Careful not to break it, even in his anger.

Peter went back to his Aunt’s side. He dropped to his knees before her, clutching her hand, as he watched the life fade from her body. He sobbed then, harsh and scared. Aunt May’s EKG screeched, and it was like he was five years old again, and he’d been told that his mom and dad would never return.

What was he supposed to do now? What need was there for Peter now?

“Peter? Oh god, Peter.”

Mary Jane appeared at his side, her hands on his arm, his neck. She hugged him tight, then pulled at his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Pete, but you can’t stay.”

He shook his head. No… 

Don’t make him leave May.

“I know,” she said her words choked by her own tears. “You can’t stay, Pete. Spider-man can’t stay. _Peter_ needs to be here. I’ll wait here for you, but you have to go.” Her head dropped to his shoulder, but she pulled him bodily away from the bed.

He let her. Let her shove his face into the mask. Let her push him toward the window. Let her shove it open. Then push him out. 

“We need you here, Pete. Come back as soon as you can.” 

Spider-man glanced back at her tear-stained face. At the still, lifeless body he’d left behind. 

Mary Jane shut the window, pressing her hand against it, before she turned away.

Peter slipped on the wall. Spider-man never slipped. But Peter did. His fingers and feet couldn’t find purchase, and he dropped into the trash cans alongside the building.

He lay there, unable to move through the haze of pain all throughout his body. Everything ached, he couldn’t breathe without gasping. He couldn’t breathe without crying.

Aunt May was dead.

Peter sobbed into his arms lying among trash; body curled over his broken ribs, and the sharp pains in his gut. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t stay.

What would they do to Aunt May if Peter didn’t return. Toss her into a mass grave with other unclaimed bodies?

No no. Not his Aunt May.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not to his Aunt May. 

Even though he knew MJ would never allow that. He _knew_. But it wasn’t her responsibility, was it?

It was Peter’s. It was his.

Spider-man pushed himself to his feet, clutching at his aching ribs as they crackled inside him. His clothes were on the roof at the F.E.A.S.T. Center. He just had to get up there. Peter set his fingers against the walls, and climbed up. His shoulder ached where Octavius’s claw had impaled him, and the arm didn’t respond as it should. He ached everywhere. So much. So tired...

‘ _You look tired, Parker_ ’

Spider-man’s chest heaved, despite the slicing pain it sent through him. He clung to the side of the building, as though it was the only thing holding him up.

_ The arms came after him, snatching him off Otto’s back and slamming him into the Oscorp building. He barely held the pincers _ _ away from crushing his face, and he strained in spite of the agony that spread through his chest. The metal was wet, slick, slippery  _ _ fr _ _ om the pouring rain. He’d only just caught himself when they tumbled off the roof. He couldn’t keep a grip on the- _

_ He screamed. Pain seared through him as one of the demonic claws bit through the shattered armor. _

_ Octavius lifted himself into view, sneer on his face. “Oh, Parker. If you want to change the world. You have to be the kind of man to make the hardest decisions.”Octavius waved the antiserum in Peter’s face, sneer never leaving his lips. _

_ Peter always had to make the hard decisions, though, right? This was no different.  _

Peter came to, with his face pressed against the soaked bricks of the shelter. Laying down. He didn’t remember climbing to the top of the building. He shook, the aftershock of his remembered battle pumping adrenaline through his battered body. The mask clung to Peter’s wet face, and he couldn’t breath through the clinging material.

Should have been faster. Maybe if he hadn’t fallen asleep after fighting the Vulture and Electro he could have made it in time. Oh god, why had he allowed that to happen? He shouldn’t have closed his eyes, not even for a second.

He could have been in time, if he hadn’t been an idiot. 

Peter sobbed where he lay, unable to push himself up from the weight that rested on his shoulders.. 

Aunt May was dead, _and it was all Peter’s fault._

He should have saved her. Let the world burn.

Oh god, no. Not that. 

May would have hated him, if he’d made that decision for her.

Peter made all the hard decisions. Never in his favor.

He couldn’t breathe, his throat closed around every breath.

‘ _Peter, I saw you as a son. I should’ve known you’d turn on me. Just like all the others.’_

Peter dug his fingers into the concrete surface of the rooftop. He needed to go back to Aunt May. He couldn’t let them toss her like yesterday’s trash. Not MJ’s responsibility. His. 

His.

He didn’t know how he made it to the steps, but he knew he had reached them. Knew, because he crashed into the concrete, slamming into the jagged edges and sending a fresh wave of agony through his broken ribs. He couldn’t move any farther. Couldn’t rise to his feet. His body just, couldn’t.

He couldn’t make it to May. He’d failed her again.

_ Typical Parker luck. Can never save the ones I love. Not even as Spider-man. _

Peter kept losing time. He knew someone had carried him inside, he caught flashes of Mary Jane leaning over him. He grabbed at her, had to make sure she was real. She was the only thing he had left, even if he couldn’t keep her. Keep her safe. 

She didn’t want him to keep her safe.

But he could hold onto her now. It was all he had, after all.

~*~*~*~*~

Flames roared at Peter’s feet. He crouched on the pole, his shirt and pants clinging to him and leaving him freezing in the stinging rain. Not freezing. Burning. The rain burned through his mask and spider suit, erasing Spider-man.

Words roared in Peter’s ears, but he couldn’t make sense of their meaning. Instead they reverberated in the air pinging off the rain like a badly designed auditorium.

A monster clung to the side of the tower, roaring at Peter, as the tentacles writhed in rage. 

The tentacles snapped at him, pincers sharp, and yanked Peter off his perch. 

Peter was flying toward the tentacled monster ( _Not as much as it means to me!)_ His momentum threw the monster off the tower.

Except it was Aunt May who fell. Aunt May who landed broken and limp. Unresponsive to his screams.

Peter woke in a panic. And he couldn’t breathe. 

_ He couldn’t breathe. _

“Shhh, shh. It’s okay, Pete.” Mary Jane’s soft voice was the only thing that kept him from jolting upright.

Mary Jane meant he was safe. The vice on his chest relaxed, and Peter could breathe again.

He curled his fingers around the hand in his. He still ached everywhere. Still had trouble breathing, but more like his lungs were already full. He coughed, every spasm driving sharp knives into his sides; phlegm filling his mouth. Something metallic touched his lips, and he followed the soft order to spit out the disgusting mouthful of mucous.

Peter gasped, short shallow breaths after his coughing fit. His head having its own knives stabbing into it from the bright lights. “Oh, I feel awful.”

“Pneumonia. On top of _all_ your other injuries.”

He squinted against the lights, and tried to bring her into focus. “MJ?”

Gentle fingers smoothed his hair back. “I told you I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”

He blinked at the ceiling, the hospital lights stinging his eyes. “I was hoping you’d say I had a nightmare.”

The fingers stopped, and her hand flattened against his forehead. “Oh, Peter...”

No…

He blinked, tears welling in his eyes. He brought his hand up- Oh... He brought the other hand up that didn’t have IVs stuck in his arm, to his face, instead. “Please tell me that’s all it was, MJ.”

_ Tell me my aunt’s alive. _

“Pete,” Mary Jane put a hand on his cheek to wipe away his escaped tears. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could.”

He scrunched his eyes close against the lights against the pain. Against the knowledge. “I failed her, MJ. Like I failed Harry. And Uncle Ben.”

“Har- Pete, don’t be-” She stopped, and when she continued, her tone softened. “Sorry. You didn’t fail anyone. You did everything you could. Look at me, please.” Her hand pressed his cheek, forcing him to face her. “Please look at me, Pete. Don’t-don’t shut me out. Not now. Not after-”

The tears in her voice made his eyes open and he couldn’t help but look at her.

Tears streaked her cheeks, and her eyes were red from crying, and marred with dark circles as though she hadn’t slept. “How long…?”

“A little over a day. You’ve been really out of it.”

A day?

He sat up, even though Mary Jane tried to stop him with hands on his chest. “Where’s May?” Sitting up triggered another coughing fit. He clutched at his sides as every cough stabbed into him like knives pointed into his body.

Mary Jane pressed her lips together, but heaved a sigh. “In the city morgue. Waiting for you.”

“Oh.”

She still pressed her hands against his chest, trying to urge him back down. “Will you lay back down now?” 

Peter obliged, letting Mary Jane ease his sore body back onto the thin mattress of the hospital bed. 

She pulled her hand away, smoothing her fingers over his shoulder before she jerked her hand away, as though she realized the contact was too familiar for friends. Instead she went back to stroking his hair. The fingers of her other hand curled tightly around his limp hand.

Peter closed his eyes, exhausted. “Thanks, MJ.”

She nudged his cheek with her thumb. “What are friends for?”

“Tired.”

Mary Jane squeezed his hand, and ran her thumb over his eyebrow. “Sleep I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

At least in the darkness, he didn’t feel pain.

Only the nightmares that his subconscious conjured up.

~*~*~*~*~

Mary Jane had been there when Pete woke up, as she’d promised, but she’d had to go to the Bugle and work. She’d apparently called in reinforcements to cover her absence because Rio showed up at some point.

Rio had brought a card and flowers, though she said they were from both her and Miles. Miles was working at the shelter, helping with the distribution of the antiserum with Dr. Michaels.

Rio sat at his bedside, her eyes knowing and sad, full of pity. She started the conversation, and when Peter couldn’t bring himself to answer, she talked about Miles, (a favorite subject from how she went on about his grades and his club activities.

Peter lay awake, aching in heart and body, but he didn’t look at her. 

He’d cried when Rio came in, because lilies were Aunt May’s favorite flower. Rio hadn’t realized the cause of his tears, and Peter hadn’t been able to bring himself to voice the reason. Now he didn’t have any energy for any. Not conversation, not company.

He just wanted to get out of here and go…

Well, he didn’t know where he would go. He didn’t have a job anymore (was the lab even still there?). He didn’t have an apartment. He couldn’t ask to stay at MJ’s because she was not his girlfriend, and she was way too busy with work after the past couple of weeks for him to add to her burden. He knew where his suit was, at least.

Peter blinked the tears out of his eyes, because he had a suit, and that was all that was left to him.

“Peter,” Rio said, “you’re welcome to talk to me, if it would make you feel better. You don’t have to, but I’m here for you.”

Peter clutched at his ribs, suppressing the coughing fit that always felt like it would tear his body in half. Even so he managed to choke out an “I’m fine.”

Rio’s brows lifted, but she nodded her acceptance of his wish. “If you’re certain...”

Peter closed his eyes, and tried to feign sleep, but he’d been in the hospital bed for two days now, and was getting restless. Mary Jane was going to bring his change of clothes (so he didn’t walk around with a bloody shirt) and then he was going to discharge himself from the hospital. With everything still going on in the city and in the aftermath of Devil’s Breath epidemic, Peter figured they weren’t going to object. He couldn’t stay, he didn’t have, oh say Deadpool’s healing factor, but the doctors were sure to notice the difference a day or two made for him.

Leave the hospital, and-

_ Don’t look at the lilies. _

He scrunched his eyes shut, unable to feign sleep as he remembered what waited for him out there.

_ Nothing. _

Nothing, but a suit and his stupid, useless sense of responsibility, at least.

(... _ I’m so proud of you. And Ben would be too...) _

“Peter?”

The concern that tinged Rio’s voice made Peter open his eyes again. 

Her brown eyes regarded him, and she half stood from the chair she’d been sitting in. “Are you okay, Peter. You’re shaking?” 

Peter nodded, but when that only made her brows furrow more and her lips thin to a nearly imperceptible line. “I’m okay,” he choked. Then he turned away from her and gave into that coughing fit he’d been trying so hard to suppress, which sent jagged knives all throughout his chest. When another clump of phlegm sat in the metal bowl on the bedside tray, and his chest stopped spasming, Peter looked up to see Rio regarding him quietly. 

“Peter, I know it’s might seem too soon, but you shouldn’t bottle everything up. It’s not healthy, and you have people who are worried about you.” She paused. “I feel like you might have talked more with Miles than I’ve managed to get out of you. Even if it would have only been about whatever gadgets he was working on. He wanted to be here, but he knew how important the antiserum was to distribute.”

Peter turned away from Rio. He didn’t need to burden her with his problems, wasn’t getting MJ involved bad enough? He couldn’t even have told her  everything. Couldn’t tell her how he had killed Aunt May, or how he had almost killed the city to save his Aunt. Talk? Like to a therapist? Even they couldn’t know Peter’s secret. “I’m fine,” he told her. 

“I’m certain that you will be,” she replied firmly. “Mary Jane isn’t going to let you be otherwise. She’s a keeper, Peter. I understand that you used to date? Whatever fight you had must not have been that bad, if she’s willing to stand by your side at a time like this.”

Rio’s words did nothing to soothe the ache in Peter’s heart. Mary Jane didn’t want him, after all. He thought he understood why. But he couldn’t help himself, he’d always protect Mary Jane. Even when she didn’t want it. Knowing this only meant that Rio’s words twisted like the sharp stab of Fisk’s blade in his guts, the Vulture’s claws piercing his chest. He could try to protect Mary Jane, but would he end up letting her down as he had Aunt May. 

Rio glanced at her phone and sighed. “I do need to get going. I really wish I could stay. I can have Miles reach out to you later. You just let me know if he pesters you too much.”

Peter blinked at that, and frowned, his brows furrowed. “Miles isn’t a bother.” He would never want the kid to think that.

Rio’s forehead wrinkled with the height her eyebrows lifted. “That’s good to hear. I’m sure I won’t need to encourage him to call you.” She squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “You call me if you need anything, sweetie. I’ll let Mary Jane know that I’m leaving and I’m sure she’ll be back as soon as she can.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Mary Jane doesn’t agree with you. And I think she’s right. You shouldn’t be alone, right now, Peter.” Rio glanced at her phone again, her lips pressed together. She clicked her tongue and left. Which left Peter in the hospital room, with the lilies sitting on the table next to his bed.

He rubbed at the edge of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, but couldn’t stop the tears. 

Aunt May was dead. 

He hadn’t just let her die: he’d killed her.

Peter inhaled between his teeth in a deep breath, cut off by another coughing fit. He couldn’t stay. He needed to get out of here.

Peter started pulling lines out of his veins and peeling wires off his body. . He wouldn’t have been leaving with prescriptions anyways, and he had no idea how he’d handle the hospital bill either. So he had no real reason to stay.

The nurses argued, but couldn’t stop him, not really. He got his clothes from them and walked out of the hospital. He’d swung with worse. Pneumonia was no stranger to him, either.

He needed to do something. 

Getting his suit was a start.

~*~*~*~*~

“ _Peter if you don’t turn your ass around and check back into the hospital, I will hunt you down and beat you senseless._ ”

“ _Are you screening your calls? Not cool. You couldn’t have waited four more hours? Goddammit, why can’t you make anything easy for me?”_

“ _Pete, please call me back or text me? Please! I’m really worried about you._ ”

“ _You got your suit? Seriously? God, your priorities are so skewed. You are so dead when I find you.”_

_ If this were me disappearing like this, you’d have grabbed me off the street and swung off with me. Don’t deny it! - _ MJ

_ Not even one word, just to let me know you’re okay? :(  _ \- MJ

Peter clicked the phone screen off, and stuck it in his pocket. He’d found May’s key in his pants when he’d put them on. Then realized he did have somewhere to go.

So he went to Queens.

He’d been standing outside his Aunt’s town home for fifteen minutes. The tinny yard needed to be trimmed, and the flower box stood empty for the coming winter. His shirt didn’t do anything to keep the cold out and the bloodstains earned him long stares from passersby. He’d forgotten it was November. He hadn’t wanted to put the costume on, even with its built in heater. He couldn’t. Not yet. 

Spider-man had failed to save the person who meant everything to Peter.

Tears pricked his eyes, and he didn’t want to start crying in the middle of the street.

So he went inside.

It was like coming home.

Better, honestly. His apartment was always a mess, and had become a source of stress trying to keep the place from falling apart around him, and the constant hassle of keeping rent up to date. To keep the electric and water on. To keep the heater pumping because the landlord would take forever if Peter waited on him to fix it. May’s home had always been a sanctuary from Peter’s day to day, even when he was a kid, then a teen learning how to be a superhero.

He shut the door, and the sound echoed in the empty room.

Suddenly home seemed a lot darker than he ever remembered. Bereft of its soul. The warmth. Robbed of May Parker.

Oh god, this had been a mistake.

He collapsed onto the couch, buried his face in his hands and broke into the tears he had been resisting in the hospital, heedless of the ache that bloomed from his ribs, of the coughing fit that tore into his throat between sobs.

_~*~*~*~*~_

Green wings cast a shadow over the F.E.A.S.T. Circling, always circling.

Peter could see the shadow through the walls of the building, knew when those giant wings passed over him like a jolt down his spine. Peter wandered F.E.A.S.T.’s empty hallway, drawn to the stairwell in the corner.

He stumbled over Gloria on the stairs. Dead. But she glared at him accusingly with her  vacant  eyes.

Hodges was on the next flight of stairs and Ernie at the top. All of them stared at him, and hissed their accusations, whispers in his ears that didn’t move their dead lips.

He stumbled over Mary Jane next to May’s office. He wanted to scream, that he hadn’t meant for this to happen. Wanted to shout his denials.

‘ _You got ‘em, tiger,’_ she whispered, ‘ _all of them. Your fault.’_

Peter dashed into May’s office.

She didn’t look up from her work on the computer. She didn’t look up until he stood next to her desk, and was reaching out for her.

Her eyes snapped up, but they were dead eyes, accusing eyes. “Look what you’ve done, Peter,” she hissed.

The Vulture smashed through the roof and sank his claws into Peter’s heart. He hauled Spider-man up and showed him the dead city. The whole while the Vulture laughed at Peter’s arrogance.

P eter sat up when someone knocked at the door. He blinked, looking around the dark room. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. The evening had changed to morning at some point. He’d spent hours last night trying to find the warm soul of the house, the familiar comfort that meant home. He’d spent the other hours wrapped in a nightmare of rage and hurt, lost on a cold, rainy night, or holding the cold hand of the person he loved most.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

Someone sounded a little angry.

“You’d better open up if you’re in there, Peter!”

Oh.

Peter got to his feet and went to open the door for MJ, stretching the tingles out of his neck. The short trip  t o the door left him breathless, and his knees weak. His skin crawled from the back of his neck down to the hand that turned the door handle.

He caught the fist she threw at his face. Then the other one.

“You jerk!” She yanked her hands free of his grip, and then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t do that again, Pete, please! I was so worried you’d disappeared on me.”

Peter wheezed from her impact. He broke into a n explosive coughing fit, his knees sagging against Mary Jane. Even in the midst of hacking his lungs  he could see of her tear streaked face. Her tears made him want to cry, too. Or maybe that was the sharp pain in his ribs. He couldn’t stop th is round of coughs, his hand over his mouth.

Why was he always such a disappointment to everyone?

Mary Jane yanked herself away with a startled gasp, staring up at him, her face stricken. “Oh my god, Pete. I’m so sorry. Are you still hurting?” She grabbed his shirt, like she was going to yank it up, but then she froze.

She’d seen the apartment behind him.

“Wh-” Mary Jane let go of his shirt and stepped past him.

Coughing fit over, or at least suppressed for the moment, Peter took the opportunity to close the door, gently at odds with the tangle of emotions that raged inside of him. He turned to follow Mary Jane’s path through the apartment with his eyes. He didn’t look at what caught her attention, he already knew what she’d find.

“What happened-” she turned and broke her question off. She headed back to where he stood. “Pete, do you want to sit down?” she spoke slow, cautiously, her eyes never leaving his.

He followed her ginger touches that guided him to the couch and obediently sad down.

He didn’t look at the dining room. He didn’t want to see the wreck that had become of the table and chairs.

She sat down next to him, and took his hand between hers, squeezing so that he would look at her. “Why did you come here?”

He stared at her. “Shouldn’t I be here?”

Mary Jane squinted at him. “Considering that when I popped by your apartment it was actually clean. By which I mean cleaned out, and the door had been ripped off the hinges. You okay?”

He flinched from her question. Okay? “I just needed to take care of- A-a-and the apartment, is, well...”

“Got ransacked by lowlifes during the crisis no doubt? You gonna need any help getting your stuff back again?”

Peter blinked and shook his head. “No. No. I’m not worried about that. Got the most important things. Probably going to just stay here for a while. Get things straight. You know?”

Mary Jane’s eyes traveled over Peter’s shoulder, to the dining area “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Peter’s eyes dropped to MJ’s hands over his and he shrugged, pulling at the . “Why not?”

Mary Jane squeezed his fingers again, her eyes flicking over the apartment. “I don’t like that you’re by yourself. Here. By yourself.” She took a shaky breath. “So, when’s the last time you ate?”

Peter’s sluggish thoughts had to process before he could come up with a proper response. “Um.” Great going, brain.

“Right.” Mary Jane bounced to her feet. “Let’s see what’s in the kitchen.”

Peter sat back, tapping his fingers against his knees as Mary Jane bustled around Aunt May’s kitchen. Exhaustion had settled into his bones from just walking to the door and back again

He could almost imagine that it was May working on… whatever meal it was. He didn’t even know what time it was. Peter figured it might be a good idea to fix the dining room table, or May would be- Oh. Right.

A hand touched his shoulder, and pulled him into tender arms. Mary Jane held him as he cried; he hadn’t even realized he’d started crying until his head rested on her shoulder, and she clutched his shirt in her fists.

He became aware at some point of her wet cheeks against his neck, her hair brushing his face. Peter sat up, wiping at his eyes. “S-sorry.”

Mary Jane handed him a tissue from her bag. She used another on her own face and blew her nose. “You know, I seem to remember something being said about us being friends, and that not all baggage is bad. I’m here for you, Pete. Cry on my shoulder anytime, really.”

From the look on her face, the smile he tried for didn’t quite come across.

“So she had sub rolls, and deli meat and cheese so I made a couple of heroes.” She got up and brought the plate back, handing him one of the subs. “What happened to the table, and the chairs?”

Peter fiddled with the sandwich in his hand. He could smell the mustard on the bread. May always put mayonnaise on it, forgetting he started preferring mustard during college, instead. Mary Jane always remembered. “They, uh, broke?”

She furrowed her brows. “On their own, huh?”

“Um. Yes?”

She snorted. “Okay. So, I know this is hard for you, but have you thought about what you need to do next?”

Peter still hadn’t taken a bite out of the sandwich, his stomach gurgled, but he didn’t really feel hungry. “Next?”

“The funeral? Are you going to bury May? Um, and there’s all her stuff, what are you-” she broke off, and touched his hand. “Hey. I’m sorry. Take a deep breath, Pete. We can deal with one thing at a time. That’s fine.”

Peter set the sandwich down, trying to remember to breath. In. Out. He ran his hand through his hair. “Ugh. I don’t-”

“Shh. Let’s start with burying Aunt May, okay? I’ll help you.”

Mary Jane did just that, pulled out her laptop and had him call a funeral home and make arrangements.

Peter wouldn’t have known what he would have done without her.


	2. Picking Up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The early morning fog blanketed the entire event, soaking into the already cold ground, into the threadbare suit that he’d kept at his Aunt’s house. The day matched Peter’s mood, dreary without a single beam of light to shine down on the grave that now sat next to Uncle Ben’s. Not even the simple flower arrangements brightened the space up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve noticed the weird formatting the past several fics (random spaces in words). Finally figured out it’s the copy/paste from the document messing it up. Trying to remember how to html instead to hopefully help with that. I’ll try and go back and fix the others at some point.

The funeral was small, Peter couldn’t afford to do much with his absolute zero finances available. Mary Jane stayed at his side through the whole thing and Miles stood on the other side with his mother.

The early morning fog blanketed the entire event, soaking into the already cold ground, into the threadbare suit that he’d kept at his Aunt’s house. The day matched Peter’s mood, dreary without a single beam of light to shine down on the grave that now sat next to Uncle Ben’s. Not even the simple flower arrangements brightened the space up.

Peter wouldn’t be able to remember the words the priest had given for Aunt May, or who exactly came. Her neighbors, he knew, and people from the shelter. Maybe even Gloria? MJ’s Aunt Anna? They stopped by him afterwards; pat his shoulder, gave their condolences. Offered their assistance if he needed it. He thanked them, words squeezing out of his throat tight with unshed tears. He’d cried enough during the funeral and in the last week. Hadn’t he?

Miles had stood silently throughout as the other guests had passed by with their condolences. Peter, even in the haze of focus on the grave markers above his Aunt and Uncle, was acutely aware of the young man fidgeting next to him. Even more so then he tracked Mary Jane’s stillness on his right. Every motion from Miles crawled across Peter’s awareness and shivered down his spine. Any other time Peter knew he would be trying to find out why his Spidey-sense was on the fritz. As it was it took all his focus not to give in to the tears burning at the corners of his eyes and to keep his breathing even. Mary Jane, with her tight grip on his fingers helped to keep his feet on the ground and not swallowed by the void that had beckoned him since that first night at May’s house.

Miles’ hand on his shoulder only made his neck itch, but he didn’t want to brush off the young man. Not with the weight of responsibility that Peter had felt for the death of Officer Davis still twisting inside. Or the genuine fondness he felt for the boy who reminded Peter so much of himself.

The Morales family were the last to leave, Rio standing over by and talking to Mary Jane just out of earshot, even Peter’s.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit while you were in the hospital.”

Peter shrugged at Miles’ soft apology, his eyes never leaving the graves. “You were helping with the distribution of the antiserum. That was really important and you have nothing to be sorry for. M-May wou-would-” Peter clamped his lips shut, unable to finish the sentence.

Miles sniffed and the corners of his mouth trembled, and his brow furrowed. “I’m...so sorry, Pete.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and curled his shoulders up to his ears. “It’s stupid. I just want to tell you the same stupid things that everyone told me when dad died.”

Peter could see the tears in the boy’s eyes and it made Peter feel bad. “It’s okay,” was all he could think of saying. Miles shouldn’t feel like anything he said was stupid, or meaningless. Peter knew. “I know exactly what you mean. Thanks.” Peter couldn’t manage a smile though, not when he’d just put his last living relative in the cold, hard ground. Not after he’d failed Aunt May.

“Peter,” Rio said as she approached them with Mary Jane tagging behind, “I’m glad to see you doing so well. You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

Mary Jane’s lips pinched into a frown.

“Bed rest does more than most people think.” Peter said with another shrug.

Rio swept a critical eye over him. “You know you can call, if you need anything?”

“I’ll do that,” Peter replied, mechanically.

Mary Jane’s frown thinned her lips until they almost disappeared.

Miles rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek. “Are you going- Are you staying in Manhattan still?”

“No,” he couldn’t stay in the city that had claimed May. He couldn’t swing around the city knowing that May wouldn’t have kind words or a hot meal waiting for him at F.E.A.S.T. He couldn’t swing around the city knowing Spider-man had failed so many people. His heart thudded in his ears, but he realized that Miles still looked at him and Rio still waited patiently. “I-I’m staying at my Aunt’s place in Queens. There’s things-I have things I need to take care of there.”

“Oh...” Miles said the word drawling in disappointment. “Can I call… or text. Texting is less intrusive, right?”

“Of course.” Peter blinked as he processed Miles words. “You’re never intruding.”

A smile flicked across Rio’s face, soft and grateful. She stepped up to give Peter a hug, and told Miles to bid Peter and Mary Jane good bye and then the two left.

Mary Jane stepped up next to Pete, her eyes searching his face. “So we’re going back to your Aunt’s house?” She sighed gustily at his nod, but didn’t say anything else.

Mary Jane followed him back to Queens, her hand tucked in his as natural as can be. They picked up dinner on the way, neither wanting to cook.

Mary Jane narrowed her eyes at the dining room table still laying where he’d left it in scattered, broken pieces from the pique of rage his first night in the house. She didn’t comment on the mess still being there, or the flat sheet spread over the couch.

They sat on sheet that covered the couch, and ate the takeout they’d picked up. Mary Jane turned on the television, claiming the place was too quiet for her. They ate in companionable silence, Mary Jane on her phone, while Peter watched the news on the television. He hadn’t paid attention to the news in a while. Convicts still held entire city blocks under their thumbs in Manhattan. The police still monitored travel to and from the island, to keep any of them from escaping. Checkpoints on the roads and in the subway stations. Peter had been subjected to a very thorough search that had still managed to miss the secret pocked sewn into the back of his bag where the costume would sit.

“Today, or tomorrow?” Mary Jane asked suddenly, putting her fork in the remaining rice.

Peter slurped his noodles down and shot her a baffled look.

“The funeral is done. I promised we’d take it one step at a time, but it’s okay if you’re not ready today. I can come back tomorrow. You need to get things taken care of before it’s too late.”

Peter groaned, folding his hands over his head. “What’s next?”

“We need to finish going through the finances, so you can get her estate in order.”

“Tomorrow. I can’t deal with anything else right now.”

Mary Jane nodded. “Sure. Do you want me to stay for a little bit?”

Peter shook his head. Mary Jane had spent everyday the past week helping him with funeral arrangements and organizing May’s papers and sorting through her finances. He didn’t need her spending every waking moment watching over him. He couldn’t do that to her. Not again.

“Going out tonight?”

“No.” Where did she think he’d be going?

“Okay,” she drawled. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Pete.”

She left then.

Peter stared at the remainder of the take out. He put it in the fridge, only because it would mean he didn’t have to figure breakfast out in the morning. He stared at the television when he sat back on the couch. He wasn’t paying attention to the sitcom on the screen, but he didn’t have the energy to get up and turn it off.

So he left it on.

 

~*~*~*~*~

_‘SPIDER-MAN MISSING? Masked Vigilante KIA during Devil’s Breath incident?’_

Peter blinked at the headlines of the Daily Bugle shoved into his face as soon as he’d opened the door for Mary Jane.

“I told you,” she said as she shut the door behind her, “Spider-man would be missed if you waited too long.” She glanced at the television as she sat on the couch, and her eyes narrowed. “Did you change the channel at all?”

“I’m not really watching it. It’s just noise.” He glanced at the paper folded in Mary Jane’s hand but looked away at the sight of the Spider-man shot on the front page.

“So, it’s been three weeks now. I’m kinda surprised you’ve not been out. It’s really not healthy for you to stay cooped up like this.” She leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder. “Something going on in that head of yours that you wanna talk about? I thought Spider-man meant a lot to you?”

Peter hid his frown under the guise of scratching at the scruff on his chin. He hadn’t shaved since the day of the funeral. It seemed pointless to go to so much effort for no reason. Spider-man had been his reason.

“Pete?”

Peter’s hand went to his knee, when he noticed it bouncing. “May knew,” he said, voice raw.

Mary Jane’s jaw went slack and her eyes wide. “ _Knew?_ ”

Peter clenched his eyes shut, and nodded, but shed the tears that always seemed at the ready anyways. “Spider-man failed her, and she knew he would. That I would.”

Mary Jane hissed a breath.

“Spider-man hasn’t been able to keep anyone safe. He puts everyone I’m close to in danger.” Peter wiped at his mouth, trying to give himself a moment to compose his emotions. To stop the damned tears. “In another month no one will bother to remember Spider-man, and that’s for the best. Spider-man,” the word may have been spat out with some vehemence, “hasn’t been able to save the people closest to me.” Ben, Harry, Li, Octavius. May. He’d failed all of them. He’d failed every person who had died of the plague because he hadn’t acted in time. Who had died in the convict riots, because he’d been too naive to realize what Octavius had become until it was too late.

“Everyone in Manhattan right now is alive because of Spider-man, Pete. How can you even think that? God, Pete, how many times have you saved me? What is going on in that head of yours?” She slammed the paper down on the coffee table and jabbed a picture at the photo. “Spider-man is our hope- my hope. Even though I hadn’t seen you in six months, I always knew that Spider-man was out there and that you would _be there_ when I needed you.” She rolled her eyes, bright with tears. “Or when I didn’t need you, even. Spider-man has _been there_ for so many people when they needed him. Pete,” Mary Jane’s fingers dug into his arm. “ _you’ve_ been there when people have needed you and it gave them hope. You can’t tell me Aunt May wasn’t proud of what you did.”

_‘And I am so proud of you. And Ben would be too. All the people you saved.”_

  _Spider-man knelt at Aunt May’s bedside and watched his last remaining family die. The cure sat on the table nearby, but he couldn’t reach for it. He’d lose her either way. The heart monitor’s flatline a constant screech in his ears._

Peter curled away from Mary Jane, not seeing her or the town home. He stared into despair.

_‘Peter, I saw you as a son. I should have known you’d turn on me just like all the others.’_

_Turn? All he had to do was pull, and he could have gotten away from the black glove wrapped around his arm. But he hoped. He_ hoped _. The rain drizzled through the hole in the side of the building, leaving a puddle on the tiled floor. Soaking into Peter’s broken suit as he hissed back at his hero. I worshipped you! The cold ate into his very bones, and still he hoped. He remembered Octavius as he used to be. That Peter had always wanted to be._

_“That’s because men like us have a duty. A responsibility. To use our talents in the service of others. Even if they don’t appreciate it… we have to do what’s best for those beneath us. Whether they understand it or not.”_

_Denials screamed out of Peter’s throat._

_The black glove reached for Peter. The man begged; pleaded that he was redeemed, he would do it better..._

_“I can fix it. We can fix it… together. If you’ll help me.”_

_Hope bloomed again. Of course. Spider-man helped people._

_“No. If they put me away they’ll take my arms. I’ll be trapped in this useless body. Please, Peter. That… wasn’t me. You said you’d never abondon me. You promised, remember? And of course you’ll rest easy knowing your secret is safe with me.” The man_ lied.

Peter pressed his hands against his ears, but he couldn’t keep out the scream that rattled around his head. He struggled to breathe, trying to follow Mary Jane’s soft orders to breathe in and out, mixed in with assurances that he was safe and she was there.

Her hand on his shoulder pulled him toward her and he found himself again with his head on her chest, her arms wrapped around him, her voice in his ear. He shook, trying to feel warm again, trying to remember he was no longer in that rain-soaked suit watching his hero morph into a monster. It sat in his room, dropped a corner, as broken as he felt.

Peter wrapped his arms around Mary Jane, and cried again. His hero had morphed into a monster right under his nose, and he had done nothing to prevent it. Spider-man hadn’t been able to save him. He’d helped to make the monster. He helped to create the machine that drove Octavius mad. He’d killed the man he’d admired. Him. His fault.

“Peter, sometimes a person has to save their self. Sometimes they can’t be saved at all. Sometimes they don’t want to be saved. That’s not your fault.” Her jaw jiggled against his head as she spoke where it rested against his hair. Weirdly comforting. A reminder of better times.

A better memory than the one that sank its claws into his head every night for the past few weeks.

A reminder that Mary Jane wasn’t his anymore. So Peter straightened, wiping his eyes on the collars of his shirt. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”

She poked his chest, playfully, but the smile on her face had hard edges, and her eyes were hurt. “If you keep apologizing for crying on my shoulder, you’re going to make me think you were lying when you said we were friends.”

Peter rubbed the back of his head. Even joking, he didn’t want her to think that. “Thank you?” he tried.

“Mm. Better. You’re welcome.” Her eyes swept over the dining room as they always did at some point during her visits these past three weeks. “So, are you ready for the next step?”

Peter leaned away from her words, not following her gaze. He groaned and covered his face. “Yeah. What is it?”

Mary Jane reached across the space between them on the couch and rested a hand on his arm. “This is going to be hard, Pete.”

Peter dropped his head, rolling the tense muscles at the point where his neck joined his shoulders. “You make it sound like it’s all been so easy, MJ.”

“Oh god, Pete, I’m sorry. I know it hasn’t. None of this is easy.” She fidgeted, as though she didn’t know what to do with her hands; they bounced from her lap, wrung together, played with her ponytail. “So, what’s your plan for this place? You staying in Queens now?”

Peter groaned again. “I don’t know. Where else would I go?”

Her shoulders jumped with a sudden laugh. “Back to the apartment, silly, assuming they haven’t rented it to someone else.”

He couldn’t help but groan again. “Don’t want to go back to the city, yet. You still haven’t said what’s next?”

Mary Jane’s hands settled; clasped in her lap. “Peter, that’s next. Are you going to keep May’s place?”

Peter’s head shot up. “What? Of course!”

Reality crashed into him at the same time Mary Jane asked.

“Can you afford it?”

Peter had gone through May’s finances, and Mary Jane had been there with him.

Mary Jane also knew his finances, which were terrible even six months ago with a stable job.

“No,” he admitted, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. He was going to lose everything that belonged to Aunt May too. He blinked away the tears, so tired of the constant crying. Everyday seemed to reopen the wound in his heart torn by her death. He just wanted to pull his hair out with frustration at the pile of garbage on constant fire that was his life at any point it seemed since that damned spider had bitten him at Oscorp.

Typical Parker luck.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Mary Jane told him softly, her eyes filled with pain.

“Not your fault that my life absolutely sucks,” he said, catching a sob in his throat. He took a deep breath, air hissing between his teeth. When he exhaled he the sob had cleared out, though his eyes still burned with the unshed tears. “Thank you, MJ. For everything.”

Though her eyes still held the pain and tears from earlier, she still tried to give him an encouraging smile.

It soothed the edges of the wound in his heart.

He tried for a smile back, shutting out the memory of better times when he used to be allowed to kiss those pink, raspberry-flavored lips. He’d spent too much time trying to smooth things over with her after finding her in Fisk’s auction house. Now he didn’t have the energy to even try.

But being with her was a balm to his broken spirits; he just wished he didn’t have to be such a burden to her all the time. He appreciated that she was even still willing to be there for him.

Her fingers brushed his shoulder, but she stood and wandered into May’s kitchen.

He doubted he’d ever be able to think of this place as his own, it would always be May’s. Which might be as good a reason not to keep it, as not being able to afford the place.

“All you have left in here are the ramen noodles I brought last week. Have you even been eating?”

“When I think about it.”

“Well, I’m not eating ramen. I had enough of that in college. How about you get cleaned up, and we’ll go grab something? My treat,” she added when he’d opened his mouth to object. “We can talk about this place and what you’d want to do. You could, if you’d like, hop on my laptop and look for a job, maybe? Maybe you could find something that’ll let you keep Aunt May’s place.”

He groaned, running his fingers over his head. “Isn’t that cheating? I thought we were dealing with things one at a time?”

Mary Jane poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled sweetly. “That was for dealing with Aunt May. This is about you.”

Peter decided that a shower would be better than that. So he got up and located a reasonably clean set of clothes and hopped in the shower. At least when he cleaned, it his sad excuse for a beard didn’t itch.

When he came out Mary Jane stood up from pushing the remains of the dining room table off to one side. She tilted her head and narrowed eyes at him, or specifically his face. Probably his scraggly beard, she’d always hated when he’d try to grow facial hair. Then again so did he, normally. Beards did not do well in full facial masks. Especially ones with all the little components he’d put in the Spidey mask.

His eyes slid over the newspaper MJ had left on the coffee table. No Spidey. No MJ. So it didn’t matter if he grew a beard.

She made him put on a scarf and had dug a sweater out of the closet in his old room. Peter followed Mary Jane out the door.

The chill November air greeted him as he stepped out the door. The sky bloomed with reds and oranges, the clouds painted across the sky like some artist’s brush had gone over the horizon. The similarity to the awful week when the city had been on fire was too much for Peter. Any other time, last month, even, he would have appreciated walking with MJ with such a beautiful sunset making her skin glow, and her red hair blaze like the setting sun. He slid his gaze away from her and the sunset.

Peter followed Mary Jane to Subhaven where they got sandwiches with too much bread (Mary Jane made him eat two), and she dragged answers out of him as only a reporter could do. As only Mary Jane could drag answers out of him.

She walked him back to Aunt May’s house and left him with a hug at the door so she could take the subway back to Manhattan.

Peter shut and locked the door, watching her go down the street through the large picture window. The urge to change into the costume and follow her (to make sure she made it safely) pressed on his chest and heart. The broken pile of chairs and tables brought him to a halt when he went to grab the bag with the suit.

He would need to clean that up, if he was going to sell the house. Fix the holes he’d put the wall, sweep up the broken glass from the pictures that used to hang on the wall until. His fingers trembled, and he swept upstairs and into his room instead and looked around at the remnants of his old life with his Aunt May.

He hadn’t been in his room since he’d walked inside the house. He’d forgotten about the stupid monkey alarm that Uncle Ben had given him back in middle school. The collection of horse figures that Aunt May would pick up whenever she could find a new one he didn’t have yet. She’d even left the electronics he’d scavenged in the crate under his old desk.

She’d made his bed, though. He would never have left it so neat when he was living here. The poorly made, threadbare quilt still topped his comforter. He sat down on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. The patchwork, mismatched colors that hurt the eyes to look at. When Aunt May had tried her hand at something crafty and he’d snatched the end result before she could trash it in frustration. Peter stroked the quilt, his head jerking when tears dripped onto his fingers.

Peter curled up on his bed, his face buried in the quilt clenched in his hands. Crying harder as he realized it still smelled like Aunt May’s detergent.

 ~*~*~*~*~

Peter looked up from the neat little stitches he was putting in one of the spare pants he’d found in the closet of his old room. He didn’t know which was more unbelievable, all the junk he’d left behind in his room or the fact that May had kept everything right here. Then again, he’d always meant to return and grab more stuff, but it never seemed to be a high enough priority between twelve or fourteen hour shifts at Dr. Octavius’ lab, MJ and Spider-man. Even when it became just the stupidly long hours at the lab and Spider-man he couldn’t find the time to pick up his stuff. Aunt May never complained about wanting the room cleared for her own use, or when he’d had to come back for various reasons usually relating to his poor finances.

Knocking at the door drew him out of the spiral that yawned under his feet.

Peter went to let in the only person who would bother to come around.

Mary Jane stepped inside, her eyes flicking immediately to the dining room, and then touching on the other areas. She lifted her brows at him. “Making a lot of progress, I see.”

Peter hummed, not having to look around to see that everything was the same as it had been the last fifteen times. “To be fair, I’ve been working upstairs first.”

“Mm-hmm. Well look, I can’t stay long tonight. I was going to drag you out tonight and see if I can talk you into company on Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Peter pat his pockets, and realized he’d left his phone upstairs. “What day is it?”

“December tenth.”

“Holy shit. Where’d November go?” MJ had brought him a turkey leg from her Aunt’s house during Thanksgiving. Was that really nearly two weeks ago?

Mary Jane’s smile belied the sad eyes she turned on him. “Yeah, sorry I haven’t been able to visit as often as I’d like. I still don’t like that you’re here. Have you checked on your apartment yet?”

“No.”

“Have you even left the house since I visited last week?”

“No?”

Mary Jane rolled her eyes and walked past him, her hand zipped out and shoved the back of his head. “Ugh.”

Peter let that happen, and then scratched at his still scraggly itchy beard. Another reason he hated growing beards was that his beard never wanted to come in properly. December 10th? He’d missed Thanksgiving, but he couldn’t (shouldn’t) expect Mary Jane to drag him out of his depression all the time. (Again) That guilt prompted him to grab his phone from upstairs and when he came out of his old room he found Mary Jane had followed him up and was now hugging herself in front of the closed door to Aunt May’s room.

A line of tears slid down her cheeks, and her arms squeezed around herself. She glanced at him, and sniffed, wiping her eyes on her coat sleeve. “I miss her, Pete.”

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his feet, tears wetting his eyes. “Me too.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry. He was so tired of crying. He wanted to give MJ a hug, but he’d probably start crying if he did. He also wasn’t entirely sure she’d let him give her the hug she looked like she needed. She didn’t have a problem with putting her arms around him, but he knew it didn’t necessarily mean she’d be okay with him doing the same. Women were so incomprehensible.

She sniffed and turned to him. “You almost ready?”

“Just heading downstairs for my coat and shoes.” He put action to words and headed down the stairs.  
Mary Jane joined him downstairs when he’d gotten his shoes and grabbed his coat out of the closet under the stairs. All evidence of tears had been wiped from her cheeks, but she couldn’t have done much about her puffy eyes.

She took Peter to Nick’s Pizza and ordered a pie that she only had three slices from. Peter hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the pie sat in front of him. He’d gotten through his third slice while she picked through the side salad she’d ordered for herself when she finally spoke.

“Rio reached out to me. She says you’ve been keeping in touch with Miles?”

Peter hastily swallowed the delicious mouthful of cheese, sauce and crust so he could answer. “Yeah. He’s been texting me. I’ve been helping him with homework, and he was telling me about his science fair project.”

She smiled, and took a bite of her second slice of pizza. “I’m glad. I was worried that you weren’t talking to anyone in the ‘outside world’ besides me.” She curled her fingers into air quotes in what he recognized as an attempt to lighten his mood.

Peter lifted his brows. “You make it sound like I don’t have any friends.”

“Oh I’m sure you have a lot of friends at your ‘other job’, but outside of that we both know that it’s been just me, Harry, and...” she trailed off, her brows furrowed, using the excuse of taking a bite to not finish what she’d been saying. She sniffed, her red rimmed eyes slid off Peter to drop to her salad. “I’m just glad there’s someone else, right now.”

Especially with Harry probably dead, he knew she meant. Peter clenched one hand on his knee, using the physical pain to cover the raw flesh of his heart. His breath caught in his throat. The last slice of pizza dripped cheese from where it drooped in his hand.

Mary Jane’s lips trembled and Peter didn’t really think about it; he stretched an arm across the table and curled his fingers over her hand. She’d lost May and Harry with him. She didn’t have many more friends outside of their small circle, either. He knew that she’d thrown herself into her work when she wasn’t pulling him out of his spiral of misery.

She glanced up at him only briefly. Then her eyes dropped back to her plate and wiped her eyes with a napkin. She turned her hand on the table so that their palms rested against each other. “I’m worried about you, Pete. I’ve never seen you not,” she rolled her eyes, “work your other job for so long. I’ve been at a loss of what else to do for you to bring you out of this funk that you’re in.”

Peter drooped just like the pizza still in his hand. He hadn’t even thought about all the effort that MJ was putting in for him. She really had. Visiting daily and then no less than once a week when work needed her. Going on nearly a month and a half now if it. “S-”

She snatched her hand back and glared at him. “Don’t you dare apologize, Pete.” She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “I was bringing it up, because my ultimate goal today is to get you to agree to having the Moraleses over to A-… to the house on Christmas.”

Peter flinched. “Why would I do that?”

Mary Jane tilted her head. “Because it’s good for you to have more than one person over at a time. Or more than the same person over all the time. You need your friends.”

“House isn’t very presentable, right now, and I’m supposed to be clearing it out.”

Mary Jane set her chin on hand and smiled at him. “How’s that working out so far?”

Peter flinched. “Are you actually going to give me a choice?”

Her smile widened. “No. We’re going to show up, whether you like it or not.”

Peter’s fingers swiped through his hair, rubbing out a tangle his comb had missed earlier. “Whatever happened to talking me into it?”

She took a bite out of her pizza. “Getting you to agree to it would be nice, don’t you think?”

He snorted at her, his lips curving upwards of their own accord. “Kind of.”

“Then maybe you should just agree.” She batted her lashes at him, her beautiful smile lighting up the restaurant.

“You are the worst.”

Her smile didn’t fade, as she stretched her hand out and stroked her fingers over his knuckles. “I know you too well, Pete. If I don’t force myself on you, I’m afraid your going to self-destruct like you tried back when we first broke up.”

Peter’s lips pressed together. “Forcing, huh?” He lowered his eyes, but felt a flash of pride at the blush that raced across MJ’s face. “So, I don’t get a choice. Whether I like it or not?”

A sinister voice whispered similar words through his mind, ‘ _… we have to do what’s best for those beneath us. Whether they understand it or not.’_

Peter covered his eyes, shaking that memory off.

Mary Jane set the crust of her pizza down, and took his hand in both of hers. “Pete?”

He turned his face away, ashamed to be breaking down again in front of Mary Jane. Hadn’t she had to deal with him enough as it was.

“I had to choose, MJ. There wasn’t enough serum for everyone and May.” He squeezed his eyes close, trying to keep any other tears from flowing. “I couldn’t… How...” He grimaced and stopped talking.

Mary Jane stood up suddenly and slid into the booth next to him. “Was that what Michaels was telling you?” She clucked her tongue at his nod. She took his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. “Pete, I can’t pretend to understand what that choice did to you.” Her hand slid over his cheek, fingers soft on his skin. “I don’t even want to say that you made the right choice.” She forced him to look at her. “Did Aunt May hear?”

“She knew,” Peter managed to spit out. He struggled to control his breathing, shuddering with tears.

Her fingers combed through his hair, pulling out locks of hair before smoothing them back. “What did she say, Pete?”

_‘Yes, you do.’_

“That I’d know what to do,” he choked out.

“Oh Peter.” She took his face in both her hands and forced him again to raise his head, and meet her eyes. “I don’t think you actually had a choice. She knew it too. She died right afterwards, right? Would the antiserum have worked in time?”

Peter jerked out of Mary Jane’s hands; he couldn’t breath.

_He stood before the bag hanging from the pole, the access port in his fist…_

“Pete, Pete.” When did MJ get so close so she could whisper in his ear? “Breathe, Pete. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Peter found himself pressed to the side of the booth, his hand in his hair. His chest heaved with the air he couldn’t get before.

Mary Jane must have moved away after whispering into his ear. “Do we need to go?”

He nodded. He needed to go back to Aunt May’s house, before he the phantom claws crushed him again and stole the breath from his lungs.

She got the waitress’s attention and paid for the meal, packing up the leftovers. She took Peter’s arm and led him out of the restaurant and back to Aunt May’s house.

Peter stopped when they were turning down the street to May’s townhome, taking MJ’s hand in his. He looked into Mary Jane’s concerned eyes. “Do you really think that?”

“What?”

“That Aunt May would have died either way?”

“Pete… I,” Mary Jane hesitated. She looked around and dragged him to a bench conveniently located nearby.

Peter let her pull him down next to her. He needed this. He needed to know. Even if it was only a best guess, or a worst deception, he wanted to hear what MJ had to say.

Mary Jane stared off into the distance, her hands folded on her crossed leg. “You missed the whole distribution of the serum. I helped out, so I could write a report,” she amended quickly, as though guilty. What had she to feel guilty about? At least she was out there, instead of wallowing in self pity, like Peter had been “There were some cases where the person was too far gone, and even though no one was denied, they still died, their bodies too ravaged by the virus to recover. If… If ,” Mary Jane paused, pressing her fist to her lips, but Peter could see the tears on her lashes. She took a breath, half sob, half shudder, “Aunt May had been given the serum, I don’t think she would have recovered, Pete.”

Peter jerked his head away, his heart breaking all over again. He covered the ragged sob that ripped its way out of his throat.

It wouldn’t have mattered. He’d almost killed everyone else, and it wouldn’t have mattered.

“No. No! Don’t think like that, Peter,” Mary Jane snapped, her hands on his forearms. “You need to stop taking responsibility for every little thing. You didn’t do it. That is the only thing that matters.” Mary Jane went quiet for a minute, her grip on his arms tight, even through his worn, winter coat. “Aunt May would be devastated to see you doing this to yourself. She told you, right? That you knew what you needed to do? That she knew who you were? She wanted you to save everyone else, Pete. Don’t beat yourself up about it. This is what she wanted, doesn’t that matter to you?”

“I don’t want it. Though. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I shouldn’t have-”

She pressed her finger to his lips. “You shouldn’t be playing ‘what if’s. You fell asleep?” Her fingers brushed negligent strands of hair away from his wet cheeks. “Even Spider-man is only human. If you fell asleep, with everything that was happening, you must have been exhausted. You needed the sleep, or you would have started making mistakes. Then maybe the serum would have been lost. You wouldn’t have been-” she broke off, her hands trying to pluck words out of the air, “I don’t actually know where you were, but it got you the serum. Maybe that wouldn’t have worked out? Maybe you would have been so tired that you wouldn’t have made it back. For crying out loud, I have sources that tell me ‘Spider-man’ left the hospital with fourteen freaking broken bones. Fourteen! That was, what? The day before you were dragged in by Sable and that doctor? You did your best and Aunt May knows it. There is no ‘not good enough.’Your best will always be good enough. At least as far as I’m concerned.” The last came out uncertainly, as though she wasn’t sure it mattered to him.

Peter looked at her, the tears shocked out of him by her uncertainty. He turned to her, and hesitantly put his arms around her.

She stiffened, her lips pressed together, eyes wide, but then relented and pulled his head to her shoulder. She was afraid he was going to try to kiss her, he realized.

He just wanted her to know that what she told him mattered. To him. Her opinion, good or bad always mattered.

He didn’t want to ruin what he had with her for a single stolen kiss. He didn’t want to make her mad at him like that, again. He just wanted to comfort her, and thank her. Her words meant everything. He’d hold onto them and treasure them. “Thank you, MJ,” he said, squeezing her against him carefully. “I can’t tell you how much.”

Her arms tightened around him in return. “Sure you can. You can agree to Christmas dinner.”

A laugh burst out of his throat, as wet as his cheeks. He lifted his head from her shoulder to scrub at his face with his coat; though he was reluctant to let her get too far. “Sure, MJ. For you. Anything.” He stood up. “One problem though, I don’t have a table anymore.”

She pointed at him. “My aunt still lives a fewcouple blocks over, and I can borrow one from her.”

When they got back to the townhouse, Mary Jane handed the leftovers to him with a peck on the cheek (he didn’t think she’d meant to do that, because her cheeks flushed afterwards) and she told him that she would be dragging him to the store a few days before Christmas, but she wouldn’t be able to make it back over before then. Would he be able to work on the dining room by himself?

Peter simply nodded, more focused on the sensation of her lips against his skin then the stream of words from her mouth. He didn’t turn from the door until she had closed it behind her, and then only so he could watch her through the picture window.

It probably meant nothing. She hadn’t even meant to do it. Just a hold over from when they were dating (how many months ago?). He couldn’t think too much on it. Even though he really couldn’t do anything except to cling to that feeling of the press of her lips on the flesh of his cheek. He’d always been the clingy boyfriend, she’d told him jokingly so many times. Not untrue, he’d reflected in the months since they’d separated.

Peter turned around and went into the dining room to start picking up the remains of the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just broke canon, cause I think from the lease that Pete and MJ filled out in one of the backpacks May’s actually renting (unless I’m not reading it right cause of course I am) and Pete wouldn’t be able to sell it, but what else was he doing in the meantime.
> 
> I will be the first to admit, I’ve never had to deal with a parental/guardian figure’s death. Tried to research it, but wasn’t spending too much time on it. So much wrong. Sorry.
> 
> Been reading a ton of Homecoming fics and wanted to try my hands at panic attacks and flashbacks. I think this Peter copes differently so that doesn’t usually happen. (Can you imagine how debilitating having a panic attack or a flashback would be during a fight with someone like Fisk?) But with the fic covering so shortly after everything, I figured it would not be an inappropriate place for Pete to have them.


	3. Holiday Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays come along and Peter finally makes the decision we've all been waiting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer than I thought to finish this. But hey, it’s done! Yay~ Next is the last chapter which is done, actually. I can’t believe this was so hard to finish. Hope it all makes sense?

Peter pushed the door open with his shoulder, since his arms were full of bags and held the door open for Mary Jane who also had an armful of groceries (to his frustration; she’d picked the bags up and refused to let him take any).

Peter paused on his way to the kitchen when Mary Jane stopped to look over the dining room. She smiled when she noticed him looking. “Progress.”

“I’ve been packing my stuff upstairs, too. And I’ve been in talking to realtors.”

“Ooh. That’s more than I expected.”

He frowned at her. “I hear patronizing.”

She smiled again. “Me? Patronize you? Never.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but a smile made its way onto his face. “I still need to go through May’s room.”

Her smile faded, and pain filled her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do you have time to help today, maybe?”

She brushed his arm with her knuckles. “Of course, Pete.”

Peter sighed in relief. “I’ll admit that I haven’t even opened her door.”

Her brows furrowed. “I kinda figured that. This isn’t going to be easy, you know.”

Peter sighed again. “I know, but I’ve put it off way too long.”

“Mmhmm. Let’s get these groceries put away first and we’ll work on that later. Oh,” she said as she carried the bags past Peter and into the kitchen, “Auntie Anna says that you can absolutely borrow a table and even some chairs, but,” Mary Jane raised finger as she set the first handful down, “she says you have to come down and get it yourself. I’ll help of course, but you have to be there to get them.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at her as he started storing the cold items.. “Technically, I don’t actually need your help.”

Mary Jane shook a can of cranberry sauce at him and wrinkled her nose, but she grinned, flashing her white teeth. “I know that, but she doesn’t; unless you want to start sharing your secret?”

Peter closed the refrigerator door, having shelved the small ham they’d bought for the dinner in a few days. “Not looking to start that.”

“Hey Pete,” Mary Jane paused in putting the Chex in the pantry. “Would…” she hesitated, her eyes looking anywhere but at Peter, “would it bother you if we pulled out Aunt May’s Christmas Decor? The tree’s somewhere, right?”

Peter snorted. “Aunt May never throws those things away.” He sighed. “I can probably still find the decorations from my tenth birthday party.”

She laughed, and poked his shoulder. “Sure, but do you want to pull any of them out? One last time, so it’s not quite so dark and depressing here?”

Peter blinked at her in surprise. “Wait, you think it’s dark and depressing?”

Mary Jane’s eyebrows shot straight to her hairline, and okay, maybe he needed to open the curtains or turn on more lights.

Or keep MJ around, because she always brightened the room wherever she went.

Decorations would have to do since that wasn’t an option.

Peter rubbed his palms on his slacks. “We have to get them from the attic.”

Mary Jane’s smile faded. “Oh, I guess we’re starting on May’s room, huh?”

Because of course the attic access was in May’s room.

They both looked up stairs at the ceiling where Aunt May’s room lay above.

“No time like the present, I suppose,” Mary Jane muttered, as though she had as much of an inclination to open Aunt May’s door as Peter did.

Which was to say no inclination at all.

Peter had no fear of ghosts (he’d beaten too many spectres to really be scared of them). His memories held enough terror for him lately. Aunt May’s room would be full of nothing but memories.

Concerned green eyes regarded him for a moment before Mary Jane nudged his arm. “Come on, tiger. We need to get this over with.”

Her nickname for him sent a wash of pleasure through him. Just as it had before he’d gone after Octavius, when it had brought him to a halt and sent a flutter of hope to his chest. He didn’t think it would be too much to say it had gotten him to the lab, knowing that she still had his back, and maybe they had a future.

Peter followed her up the stairs, his hands in his pockets.

MJ opened May’s door, and warm yellow light flowed into the little hallway they stood in.

May’s room looked almost exactly like Peter remembered from the last visit he’d made before…

Pictures dotted the wall, Ben and Peter and even a shot of Peter laughing with Mary Jane and Harry. Not the same one that had been sent from her office at her F.E.A.S.T. This one had been taken by Mary Jane and all of them were making stupid faces at the camera. Peter had never understood how that one had earned a place on her wall. Her bed stood made and ready for her to turn the sheets down for bed. Her dresser still had the doily Mary Jane’s aunt had made on it with the souvenirs May had collected from trips with Ben. If you let her, she would tell you where exactly she was and what Ben had said when he’d given to her. Even if the words weren’t always the same every time. Peter had always found it too funny to correct her.

Mary Jane’s fingers closed on his wrist. “Pete, you okay?” Her hand cupped his cheek before she wiped at the tears he didn’t even realize were falling.

“Sorry. This keeps happening.” He turned his face from her hand, but only so he could scrub his cheeks with his collar.

She pushed his hands away. “I remember it did after Uncle Ben died too. Fortunately, this time I came prepared.” She shook a tissue out of a travel pack and wiped his face clean of the tears before handing the tissue to him. She looked up at the ceiling. “Tell you what, you go look in the attic, and I’ll start putting things away here. Maybe that would help you if it looked less like May’s room?”

He would rather MJ came up to the horrible mess of an attic with him than for her to touch anything in Aunt May’s room. It was like putting her things away was erasing Aunt May from his life. He wanted the room to stay the same, like May would be back on the 6:15 train from Manhattan. Even though he’d never opened her door, knowing that her room hadn’t changed was like he was waiting for her to come home.

“Pete?”

Peter turned his eyes from the pictures lining the wall to Mary Jane’s concerned face.

“You are really spacing there, tiger.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “I really miss her, MJ.”

She blinked and wiped at her own eyes. “Me too, Pete. Me too. Get up there, I’ll do what I can here.”

Peter didn’t want to search for the hook to open the access door, so he hopped up to the ceiling and pulled the door open with his hands. He didn’t climb the stairs, he just crawled straight through the hole in the ceiling and into the dusty, dim attic space above the town home.

It didn’t take him long to find the Christmas decorations (mostly because they weren’t buried under everything else and May had nicely labeled the box ‘Christmas Decor’.) There was even a box for last year’s tree. He did have to dig it out from under ‘Halloween’, ‘Birthday’ and ‘Easter’.

Mary Jane had pulled the pictures off the wall and cleared the dresser of the knickknacks by the time he’d come down.

It was like a stab in his heart to see the bare walls and empty dresser. He might have felt worse if Mary Jane hadn’t been wiping her face as she sorted through the books on May’s night stand. She looked up when Peter hopped down with both boxes under his arms.

Mary Jane helped Peter set up the tree, dragging conversation out of him as only she was capable. She had him talk about his resume and which realtors he’d spoken to and what about. She offered her own very very little experience from selling her father’s house. She talked about her current article and how the promotion she’d been working towards stood.

Her chatter filled an emptiness Peter hadn’t realized had been there.

When they were finally done, Peter had to admit that the place looked much more cheerful with the decorations. ( _Like it had last Christmas when May had been alive. When MJ had been his girlfriend still. When Harry had still been…_ )

“Aunt May would be happy to see this place so bright one last time, don’t you think?”

Mary Jane’s voice startled him out of his morose contemplation. “Yeah. She would be.”

Mary Jane slipped her fingers through his and she smiled at him. “Come on, Tiger. Let’s go upstairs. Still a lot of work to do so you can sell this place.”

“Yeah,” he said, carefully squeezing her hand.

She followed him up the stairs, and they sorted through Aunt May’s room until Mary Jane had to head back to Manhattan.

~*~*~*~*~

“Peter!” Anna Watson greeted Peter when she opened her door. “Merry Christmas! It’s so good to see you.” She pulled him close to give him kiss on his cheek, like she always did. “I haven’t seen you since May’s funeral. Are you doing okay?” She gestured for Peter and Mary Jane to come inside, talking the whole while. “What a tragedy, everything that happened in Manhattan. To think that May would have gotten caught up with it. I do swear that I couldn’t sleep outta worry for Mary Jane, and you too, Peter. I’m so glad that you both made it out okay. And to see you talking once more! Are you dating again? May and I always thought you were perfect for each other, and it was so sad that you’d broken up. I told May, I did, that arguments don’t last forever, you’re both so young and you were bound to get back together. She’d be so happy. I do miss her. “

Mary Jane rolled her eyes at her Aunt, her smile strained. “We’re not dating Aunt Anna. We’re just friends. I’ve just been helping him out.”

“Really,” Anna didn’t sound like she believed it, “I’m sure it’s just a temporary thing. Peter’s always been such a nice boy. He’d always be so happy to help, like his Uncle, god rest his soul. And it’s so hard to find to a guy with a good job.”

Peter winced, as Aunt Anna wasn’t even looking. “That’s-”

Mary Jane stepped in. “He actually lost his job in the whole Devil’s Breath fiasco. He’s working on getting a new one, when he’s not getting the townhome ready to be sold.”

“Oh, you’re selling the Parker house? That’s such a pity. Ben was so proud of his house, and all the work he put in it. He’d always hoped to raise a family, but never had any children until you came along, Peter.” Anna’s voice warbled. “Ben was devastated by Richard’s death, but he said that having you in his life made it impossible to stay sad for long.”

Mary Jane hurried over to her aunt. “Auntie, you’re just going to make yourself upset. Let’s not do that on Christmas. You should be smiling. We’re here to pick up the table and chairs, remember?” Peter recognized the voice Mary Jane used, as the one she’d been used on him when he woke up in the hospital last month. Soft. Coaxing.

“I really appreciate you letting me borrow the table, the one May had was… old. I guess she didn’t want to bother me and say it was falling apart...” Peter trailed off at the look Mary Jane had given him. It was her ‘you should stop, you terrible liar, you’ face.

“May had mentioned wanting to go to the flea market to replace some pieces, I can’t remember if the dinner table was one of those...” Aunt Anna tapped her lip, her grey eyes sweeping over the room. “Right. The table and chairs. They’re in the shed out back, go ahead and get them, Peter. I need Mary Jane’s help with something.”

Peter gave Aunt Anna a smile, a little thin if MJ’s narrowed eyes were any indication.

“Key’s hanging by the back door, Pete,” MJ told him as she followed Aunt Anna into the kitchen.

Peter went and pulled the table and chair out of the storage room attached to every town home. Peter eyed the mess the storage unit, and then, with some judicious use of spider strength, he extracted the table and chairs from the storage area without having to take everything out of the shed and then putting it back.

Mary Jane joined him at the back door, taking two folding chairs in each arm and leaving Peter with the table.

“Think you’ll have an arm free for Auntie Anna’s Christmas present?”

“Um...”

Mary Jane grinned at him and stepped back into her Aunt’s house, heaving the chairs through the door with her.

Peter could have honestly taken them all without any difficulty, but it would have looked odd for him to take them down the street. Mary Jane would have been furious at him too, for ‘helping’ her. It used to be that wouldn’t have stopped him from doing the ‘right thing’ in his goal to ‘protect her.’ Peter carried the table through the backdoor, and into Anna Watson’s living room. He had to remember to grunt and groan as he set the table on the floor by his feet.

Anna Watson was regarding the table and the casserole in her hands. She hmmed, in a way that strangely (or perhaps not so strangely) reminded Peter of her niece. “Let me grab a bag so you can carry this back with you, dearie.”

“You didn’t have to, Ms Watson. MJ and I had a dinner planned.”

“Nonsense. I have no one else to cook for, and my niece doesn’t get nearly enough home cooking anymore.” Aunt Anna presented Peter with the casserole dish in double plastic grocery bags. “You’re the reason that Mary Jane is finally visiting after a year’s absence. Really it’s the least I can do for you, Peter.” She kissed his cheek again, and turned her head so Peter could give her a peck on the cheek in return. “And really, call me Aunt Anna, or even just Auntie. We’ve known each too long for formalities.”

“Thank you again, Aunt Anna.” Peter tilted his head toward Mary Jane. “I hope you don’t mind me stealing your niece on the holiday?”

Aunt Anna laughed. “Oh no, my dear. I’m going over to visit a bunch of other old foggies, and she would rather spend the holiday with you, no doubt.”

“Aunt Anna...” Mary Jane hissed, her face red.

“What, it’s true. Don’t try to deny it.”

Peter averted his eyes from MJ’s embarrassed face, though it did make him happy that she would be made uncomfortable by her Aunt’s words. He settled the bagged casserole in the crook of his elbow and picked the card table up, careful not to jostle the casserole “We should head back. Still have a long day of cooking to get through before Rio and Miles come over.”

“That’s right, Aunt Anna. We should really be going. We’ll get these back tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly. He still needs a table and chairs until he sells the place, right? Peter can return those whenever he’s done with them.”

Peter grimaced, but thanked her, unable to express how grateful he was for such a simple gesture.

~*~*~*~*~

Rio wrapped Peter up in a hug when he opened the door to her and Miles. She kissed both his cheeks and then did the same to Mary Jane.

“Peter, Mary Jane, Thank you for inviting us over.” Rio’s dark eyes flicked back to the teen standing behind her. “Miles has a few things for you Peter. And I brought this.” She held up a pie carrier.

Miles, his brows pressed together as he regarded Peter and the interior of the townhome, stepped past his mother and handed Peter a couple of small wrapped boxes. “This is a nice place. I thought you lived in Manhattan though?”

“Miles...” Rio said a warning tone in her voice.

“It’s okay, Rio. It’s easier to take care of things if I’m staying here. How’s things with the Robotics Club? Did you get that drone to work?”

Rio followed Mary Jane to the kitchen, after refusing to let MJ take the pie carrier. “Let’s let the boys catch up,” she was saying.

“Yeah. Ganke was really excited, though I wish we could have kept the gun. But the teacher said that he had to give it to the authorities.” Miles face fell with disappointment.

Peter might have laughed any other time. “I’m sure I don’t have to give you a speech about how guns aren’t appropriate for any age and shouldn’t be treated like toys.”

Miles sputtered. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know! But, you know... It’d have been cool to be able to keep them. Or-Or maybe we could have used the components to build something else.”

Peter nodded, noticing again how Miles’ presence crawled across his skin. “Or just seen how it was built, right? Let me know if you guys get your hands on one again, maybe I could pick it up and we could try taking it apart...” Peter hesitated. Remembering that he’d have to go into Manhattan to meet up with Miles.

“That’d be great, Peter. Were...” Miles hesitated. “Were you going to go back to Manhattan soon? It’s still a mess out there, so I don’t know if it’d be safe. Especially since Spider-man’s disappeared. Mom almost didn’t let me go back to the F.E.A.S.T. center on the weekends. Everyone there misses you, too. They wish you’d stop by and say hi, even if you’re too busy to help out right now.”

Peter’s eyes dropped to his feet, he didn’t know how to explain it to Miles. Manhattan held nothing but pain left for him. A slew of nightmares where he’d done nothing but fail.

Miles had continued talking while Peter had wallowed in shame. “You know it’s weird how Spider-man was so concerned with the shelter and now he’s disappeared and hasn’t even checked in with anyone there.”

Peter pressed his lips together, his guilt knotting tightly in his chest at Miles’ words, but he managed some semblance of curiosity. “Really?”

“Yeah, the guy brought the antiserum and didn’t even stick around long enough to say hi. But I guess he had other places to be or- or things he needed to do. I would’ve thought he’d be taking care of the prisoner camps at least, but nothing’s really being done and Sable’s still running rampant around Manhattan.”

Honestly Peter had been completely avoiding most of the major news coming out of Manhattan. He’d have though the Avengers would have stepped in by now, or even the Fantastic Four, but he hadn’t tried reaching out to any of his contacts on either team. When he looked up he managed to catch Mary Jane’s eyes, she lifted her eye brows as though she could see his thoughts (she could probably guess them, she’d known him long enough). “Must be pretty bad over there.”

“Yeah. But that’s okay. If you avoid the camps around the city and watch out for the Sable patrols it’s really not that much different than the rest of New York.”

“I wish Miles didn’t insist on walking to and from the shelter all the time,” Rio said as she passed by with the ham pulled fresh from the oven.

“Mom,” Miles groaned, his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “I told you, I can handle it. You gotta work and can’t be toting me all over the place.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t worry about me wandering around when Spider-man was around.”

Rio scoffed, but didn’t argue.

Peter clenched his jaw and looked away; ever-present guilt twisting in his gut. Mary Jane raised her brow as she passed by with the casserole Anna had given them that morning, steaming and freshly warmed. Peter popped into the kitchen, dragging Miles along behind him. He had Miles grab the biscuit platter and the yams, while he carried the drinks out. Wine for the adults and apple cider for Miles.

The conversation over dinner drifted from Miles work at the shelter and in school to Mary Jane’s last article to the types of injuries and illnesses Rio’s been seeing in the hospital lately.

Peter listened to the conversation, but didn’t really join in, picking at the food on his plate, in spite of his growling stomach. When the talk turned to his doings, he couldn’t help the frown that pinched at his lips and furrow of his brow.

Mary Jane watched him with a knowing glint in her eyes as she chewed on a mouthful of yams.

Rio coaxed replies from Peter as easily as Mary Jane did, with Miles piping in his own bits and Mary Jane purring teases that made Peter blush. Hearing about the state of Manhattan weighed heavily on Peter’s mind. He didn’t want to think on it though. Didn’t want to think of what the costume had cost him.

He just wanted to enjoy this dinner with his friends and appreciate the warmth that had filled Aunt May’s abnormally cold home. Almost like Aunt May had come home again. It ended too soon though, as Rio said that she needed to visit with other family members still.

Peter closed the door and headed back to join Mary Jane on the couch. “This was a great idea, MJ. I’m really glad that you talked me into it.”

She looked up from her pumpkin pie and its ginormous scoop of whipped topping. She nodded her head, trying to quickly swallow her mouthful of pie so she could tell him, “Of course it was.”

He smiled, just as much at her affirmation as at the whipped cream that sat at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got some whipped topping here,” he said pointing helpfully to his own face.

She swiped at her face, but it still sat there on the corner of her mouth.

He tutted at her, and reached out to wipe it away with his thumb. He’d only meant to wipe his thumb over the corner of her mouth, but he paused with his finger over her lips, cream on his nail. Her lips caught his attention: the way they caught the light, their soft pink color.

Her eyes shone brightly at him, lashes brushing her skin, and she tilted her head and took his thumb into her mouth.

Air hissed between his teeth with his sharp intake of breath. The feel of her tongue curled around his thumb sent unbelievable shivers up his arm. He couldn’t take his eyes off the shape of her lips around his thumb.

She pulled her mouth off his thumb with a wet pop and turned to his forefinger, her eyes never leaving his face. Her fingers curled over his wrist and hand so that she could turn his hand under her contemplative consideration.

Peter drew another sharp breath through his parted lips as he watched her take his forefinger into her mouth. The heat from her eyes crawled across his skin and he wanted to shift on the couch to relieve the sudden tightness in his pants. He didn’t move though. As though any sudden moves would frighten Mary Jane’s flirtations away, and put them back to where they had been before Halloween. Barely friends.

Her teeth grazed his knuckles as she slid her mouth off his finger. Her pink tongue flicked out at his finger tip, teasing, before she tilted his hand and moved to his middle finger for more of the same treatment.

The rest of the world fell away from Peter’s attention, his only focus being her fever bright eyes, and her plush lips as they curled around his finger. Her warm mouth, and teeth and the tongue that sucked at his finger. He panted a breath, his heart racing. He couldn’t believe how hot her mouth on his freaking fingers made him feel. How hot it made her look.

Her green eyes flicked down, and the deviation in her attention drew his own gaze down.

She’d scooped a dollop of whipped cream on her own finger and held it before his lips. Her eyes fastened on his mouth as she waited, patiently. Even as Mary Jane slid her mouth off his middle finger to take in his ring finger instead.

Peter’s mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the cream on the finger Mary Jane offered him. He couldn’t do anything but open his mouth to her, his eyes locked with hers.

She pushed her finger into his mouth, her nail scraping his tongue and her knuckle brushing the stiff hair on his upper lip. Her warm breath washed over his hand in a rapid tempo, her lips working on his pinkie. She pulled her finger out of his mouth and swept another finger of whipped cream up to his lips. She’d shifted closer to him, until their hips pressed together.

He could smell the ham on her breath, taste the fruity lotion she used on her fingers. Her soap and shampoo, a mingling of scents that meant Mary Jane to him. He tilted his head and took her finger into his mouth, swallowing the whipped cream though he could still taste the pumpkin pie on her fingers.

Mary Jane pulled her hand away from his mouth, her face flushed and breath quickened.

Peter pulled his finger from her lips, shivering at the wash of her breath over the back of his hand. He gently held her chin in his moist fingers and hesitantly leaned toward her lips.

His eyes never left hers and so he didn’t miss when her eyes widened and her breath froze in her chest.

He stopped, lips centimeters apart.

She released the breath that had stalled in her throat, quick, but not from excitement. Confusion darkened the heat that had been burning in her eyes. “I should go,” she told him in a soft voice.

Peter’s brows furrowed. He wanted to say, ‘No’, or tell her ‘Stay with me’. He wanted to pull her into his lap and never let her go.

That thought had him snap backwards, made him drop his hand from her chin. Thoughts like that had driven the wedge between them that drove her away from him nearly eight months ago, he knew now. Not her career. Him.

She swallowed convulsively then she bolted for her coat and whipped over to the door. She paused there, and Peter felt his hopes rise…

“Merry Christmas, Pete,” she said in a choked voice and dashed his hopes as she darted out the door.

Peter threw himself against the back of the couch, not caring at how the old thing creaked at his abuse. He stared at the ceiling, his neck arched uncomfortably. “Fuck,” he spat. He did reach down and adjust his pants then, pulling the fabric away from his erection.

Had he done something wrong?

~*~*~*~*~

Peter spent the next day working on his webshooters. After defeating Otto he’d gotten back to the F.E.A.S.T. Center by parkouring through the city, running across the roofs and even leaping lamp posts through Central Park. Then he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Spider-anything, and so his webshooters had sat broken in the backpack along with his suit. MJ had gotten Peter through the worst two months of his life, but Miles had reminded Peter that Spider-man could still do some good in the awful world. When he needed a break from the detailed work on the webshooters, he packed, or he worked on the mask that Otto…

_‘Such a disappointment… Parker.’_

Peter left the now spare mask where he’d thrown it and went back to packing, his chest heaving, and cold sweat on his skin.

Mary Jane was the first person he texted when the realtor told him they might have someone interested in the property. She told him that he should start looking into storage for when he sold the house (even if this buyer fell through). He’d have to put that and the moving truck he would need on a credit card until the money cleared out of escrow.

Thursday saw Peter in his suit, bouncing anxiously as he slipped his mask over his face and booted the system with a press of specific buttons on his mask. The display flashed across his lens, the system initializing. Peter blinked at the info dump, and he already missed being linked up to Manhattan’s crime alert system.

Then he gagged, because oh yeah. He remembered why this had become the spare mask. He’d thrown up in this mask after a bad hit from Rhino before he’d been put in the Raft. Never got around to cleaning it, so it had become the spare. Now it _reeked_

and Peter ripped it off, coughing the horrible smell out of his nose—he could even taste it! He yelped as the lining inside mask tried to peel his beard off. Right, and that was the reason he didn’t grow a beard. Beards in masks sucked.

The whole suit stank, so instead of going out, he spent the remainder of the day on the long and arduous task of cleaning it. It had been long overdue even before Fisk’s arrest, but everything happened before he could. Then he couldn’t find the will to do anything for weeks and even months.

Tomorrow, though, Spider-man would webswing again. Maybe not in Manhattan, right now: Queens, Brooklyn, Long Beach would see Spidey patrolling his old stomping grounds.

_~*~*~*~*~_

“ _Someone’s been busy. :)”_

Peter snorted when he clicked the link Mary Jane sent. A Daily Bugle article: ‘ _SPIDER-MAN SPOTTED! Reports coming in from Brooklyn, Long Beach and Queens. Real or fake?_ ’ One of Peter’s old photographs sat underneath the headline, and Peter’s thighs ached at the unnatural arch of his body with his knees tucked up to his chest. It had never stopped being uncanny to see a picture of himself and not recognize himself. He still saw himself as the geeky gawky teen he’d been back in high school before the spider bite.

Peter tapped against the phone case thoughtfully and then typed out a reply. “ _Yeah, couldn’t stay cooped up all the time, right?_ ”

“ _Sounds like you’re listening to some good advice, finally._ ”  
He couldn’t help the smile that tugged the corner of his mouth up and he contemplated the words that he imagined in Mary Jane’s flirty tone. It made him wonder again why she’d run away after Christmas dinner when she’d been the one to really start it in the first place. New Years would be in a few days so he could see if she’d like to watch the fireworks on the Queensboro bridge like they’d done their last year of high school.

Peter danced on the ceiling when Mary Jane sent back a quick reply, “ _Sure._ ”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Peter swooped down and scooped Mary Jane out of the alley she’d ducked into. She laughed, her arms around his neck, her body pliant against him. He swung them up to the trusses, the metal colder than the night air. Mary Jane had packed a blanket for exactly that reason.

“It’s… good to see you in the suit again, Pete. I was a little worried that you weren’t going to… anymore?”

Peter settled another blanket around Mary Jane’s shoulder, accepting the other end to cover him in his spandex suit. He shivered in the suit, unable to keep warm even with the little mini heaters that he’d built into the suit. Peter considered (and discarded) the desire to pull her against him. He knew better. She would raise utter hell. But when she rested her head against his shoulder he leaned back.

“I can’t stay away. You know how much the costume means to me. I just needed… a break.”

Her fingers curled around his knee, and she tapped him. “A break, huh?” She pulled his hand out from where it rested in his lap. “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

The clock in Peter’s HUD counted midnight, just as the bells chimed in Manhattan and fireworks lit up the night.

Peter leaned back on his hands, watching the explosions that threw colors in the air. He thought Mary Jane was watching too.

Until a hand touched his cheek, and turned his head, and Mary Jane’s lips pressed against his mouth under the mask.

She knew exactly where to kiss him, too.

It wasn’t just the platonic press of lips against his. No. Her mouth moved, as though the mask didn’t stand between them.

It made him gasp a breath in surprise.

It had been over eight months now, since he’d last tasted her lips. But he remembered as though yesterday. She would taste like peppermint, her flavor of choice during the winter season.

He could do nothing else but to kiss her back, afraid that this would end too sudden and too soon, as it had on the couch after Christmas dinner. He didn’t make any other move then to open his mouth to her, the fabric a horrible taste, but her lips soft and sweet. He didn’t want to frighten her away, as he had last week (was it just last week?) when he’d moved too soon.

On the couch he hadn’t had a thought for anything but what the two of them had been doing (her lips around his fingers, her finger in his mouth). Now though, his mind raced with so many things. Memories and desire. Her mouth against his made him remember: the curve of her hip as she drowsed at his side, sweaty and beautiful from their lovemaking; the swell of her breast under his hand as she gasped in delight from his touch; the pulse of her pliant throat under his lips as he slid into her.

He wanted to touch her though, wanted to pull her astride his hips, or lay her down and make love to her under the light of the fireworks. It was like fulfilling his college fantasies with her all over again  
Out here on the arch as they were, reminded him of that time she’d had him bring her to the top of the Citigroup Center on his birthday. She had dressed in a skirt and packed a blanket that served as both shield against the chill and a cover for their lovemaking.

( _‘Sex is not a bad word, Pete,’ she’d laughed at him, when she’d heard him call it that. He’d grinned at her and asked, teasing back, ‘Is that all I am to you, just sex?’ She had laughed, as he’d intended, and declared, ‘Yes!’ He’d thrown the blanket over them both then and quickly made her regret her words. To their delight._ )

He was torn between the desire to roll his mask up so he could feel her lips against his without the fabric blocking him, and the fear that if he asked, she would realize what she was doing, regret it and refuse to resume.

She stroked his cheek, and jaw. Paused. And pulled away, her green eyes speculative as she looked his face over, following the path of her hand on his face.

Peter leaned into her touch, watching her eyes flick over his face.

Almost as if she read his mind, Mary Jane moved, her hand suddenly dropping to his shoulder, but only so she could brace herself as she got on her knees and slid one of her legs to straddle his waist. She didn’t even object when he took her elbow to steady her on the slippery metal bars of the bridge’s truss. Her attention remained focused on her fingers and his jaw. Her fingers which slid down his neck slipped under the seam of his mask and slid the bottom of the mask up to the bridge of his nose. An appreciative noise slipped from her throat, and it sent a thrill through Peter to be able to elicit such a sound from her.

Even f he didn’t quite know what had caused that.

At least until she’d run her fingers over his smooth, shaved jawline, another small noise humming from her throat.

Peter didn’t move his hands from her elbows, but he did run his thumb over her thick coat. He didn’t want to say or do anything and risk breaking whatever spell kept her hands touching him.

Her fingers paused by his lips, and her green eyes flicked up, not quite meeting his eyes through the lens, even though he tried. Both of her hands encompassed his jaw, fingers caressing the junction at the hinge of his jaw and his neck. She leaned closer, inhaling.

His aftershave, Peter realized. She used to say she loved the smell of his aftershave.

Then she kissed him.

Mary Jane kissed him.

What could Peter do but to kiss her back?

The night was cold, but Mary Jane’s lips were hot and soft and delicious against his mouth. Peppermint, just as he remembered, with a taste of the sparkling cider they’d carried up with them for celebration.

She pressed closer, not objecting or stopping when his hand cupped the back of her head. She deepened the kiss, mouth hungrily devouring his lips, a sentiment he eagerly returned.

Peter’s hands went to her hips, stroking down her soft thighs and back up. He gasped with the friction of her crotch against the erection that had bloomed in his suit pants.

The need to roll her onto her back and join his body to hers until he’d satisfied both of them sent desperate quivers through his arms and legs, shudders along his back. Dammit he shouldn’t be so aroused just from touching her. He’d be mortified if she noticed his erection. But he couldn’t stop kissing her back. Couldn’t stop his wandering hands, though he at least managed to keep them from anywhere too inappropriate, at least.

Her hands slid down his neck and over his shoulders. She shifted in his lap, crooning when he gasped again. She pressed him against the metal bars of the arch, and he could feel the soft curvature of her breasts even through her thick coat.

The fireworks exploded behind her, casting faint colors across her green coat. Mary Jane’s eyes stayed closed, but Peter couldn’t get enough of the sight of her. Until another rub across his crotch had his eyes sliding close, his hips jerking against her.

He wanted… He wanted…

To tear her pants off, and slide his erection out. He wanted her wrapped around him, her thighs clenching as she moved up and down…

Peter’s arms slid around her waist, holding her against him as a soft, helpless growl rolled out of his throat from the pressure of his need.

Her tongue touched his upper lip, but she pulled away ( _too soon, too soon_ , his nether regions cried) and smiled crookedly down at him. Lips swollen from their heated kiss.

She kissed his cheek, but only so she could lean in close to his ear. “Happy New Year, Pete,” she murmured. She rolled his mask back over his chin and slid off his lap to sit next to him and lay her head on his shoulder, watching the firework display above them.

Peter pressed his lips together against the whimper in his throat. The brightly colored lights flashed high in the sky above him, almost like his vision exploding from their kiss. He lifted a hand to touch his lips beneath his mask, still able to taste that faint trace of peppermint lip balm. His pulse pounded in his ears, and he wiggled his waist to ease the tension in his suit, where he ached with desire. The elastic of his briefs and the conforming shape of his spandex suit painful against his erection.

He looked down at Mary Jane’s ring of red hair, wondering if he could ask for a repeat. He rolled the taste of her mouth around his tongue, rolled the feel of her lips in his mind as he tried to understand the woman he used to take such liberties with for granted. That had not been a kiss between friends; he’d seen the chaste peck of her lips she bestowed on Harry beneath the mistletoe. He couldn’t make sense of what she had meant by that. He couldn’t take that kiss and the rub of her body against his as any more than a thank you for a beautiful night.

Yet he found he could do nothing else.

When Mary Jane declared that she needed to head home, Peter tucked her against side and carried her to the nearest alley to the Queensboro Plaza. He’d hoped for a goodbye kiss, but whatever had driven her on the bridge tower seemed to have left her as her cheeks colored. She did hug him though, so he supposed that was promising. She didn’t run away either, but smiled and said she’d see him next week.

Carrying MJ had done nothing for the raging hard on pressed against his suit. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but their kiss, and the press of her against him. Even the weight of her head on his shoulder sent another pulse of desire through his heart. Time had only made it worse, so that the friction of his suit _burned_.

Peter clambered up to a nearby roof, hunching his back in a futile effort to keep his suit from rubbing him so much. He sought the highest building he could find, tucking himself against the wall of the roof entry.

He glanced around, but didn’t waste anymore time to take his erection out of his suit. His balls ached, and the gloves clung to the sensitive skin of his penis. He stroked the head of his shaft, hissing at the rough fabric over his fingers.

Peter’s mind flashed to the time Felicia had given him a hand job, but the memory of Felicia brought a tangled web of emotion ( _anger, disappointment, loss, hurt_ ). He didn’t know why his mind went there, except that Black Cat had been a sexpot since Peter had met her.

Mary Jane deserved better than his fapping off to the memory of her mouth on his, and the memory of the inexorable slide of his length inside her. The warm, wet silk that would hug his erection.

Peter grunted a soft ‘oh’ with the memory of her legs around his waist, her breast in the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes against the sight of the concrete roof around him, his hand sliding around his cock.

He couldn’t fool himself that he was anywhere other than a roof in the middle of the city, but he could remember Mary Jane splayed beneath him, her skin flushed, skirt hiked over her hips to expose pale thighs.

That memory sent another zing through Peter’s arm, quickening the pace of his hand.

He could still taste the whipped cream and Mary Jane’s finger in his mouth. He hadn’t had to rub one out after that, even though he’d definitely been aroused. Her flight from the townhome (from _him_ ) had cooled his erection as he’d puzzled over where he’d gone wrong.

He could still taste her skin on his tongue.

Peter’s chest heaved as though he’d run a marathon, his grip tight on his cock.

He could still feel hair brushing his cheeks as she moved over him, hands pressed into his chest as leverage for her bucking hips.

The disjointed memories, pulled from the span of years he’d been dating Mary Jane surged through Peter as though fresh. She deserved better than his hand on his cock.

What made him finally cum, though, was the memory of the very simple sensation of her lips against his cheek from a few weeks ago. The pressure that had built up in his groin over the past hour released in a rush, all over his hand and even on his suit. Even though he bent double, and tried to press his erection down.

He gasped against the wall, legs trembling and too weak to stand on. He held his sticky hand out and away from him, wishing he’d made it back to the townhome before he’d dealt with this. Gingerly, he tucked himself back into his spandex and briefs, hissing as the once hot liquid quickly cooled on his skin and briefs.

He was going to have to clean the suit for certain now. He’d intended to go on patrol after taking Mary Jane to the station. Now he just needed to go clean up, and sleep.

He hauled himself to his feet. He didn’t want to fall asleep out here, and he would if he waited too long. He gave himself a minute before he jogged over to the edge of the building and stepped off the edge.

Peter shot out a webline, shaking the messy hand before extending that arm and anchoring another line.

He didn’t think Mary Jane understood how crazy she made him. How crazy he was for her. Or maybe she did, and she enjoyed tormenting him, just like she’d always enjoyed teasing him at the worst times.

He couldn’t misinterpret what she’d done tonight, even though he didn’t doubt that the memory would have him hard again by the time he got back to his room. Yup. He could already feel the swelling in his pants.

He could hope that she meant something by it. Even though he knew he shouldn’t. With Mary Jane though he couldn’t do anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got distracted by life. I also itch to write my original stuffs. Good news is that the next chapter is pretty much done and ready and was like the first or second chapter/scene I actually finished. Expect it very soon and then I’m going to poke at Spiders Play a little bit at a time. But I need to go play with my original stuff a little bit.


	4. A Culmination of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door jangled open and drew Peter’s attention. A smile lit his face as he saw Mary Jane’s excitement in her every move. He slid out of the booth and stood up to meet her at the edge of the tables. He tried to measure the result of her meeting in her face, but she kept her expression spectacularly neutral. “So…?” he pretty much demanded.
> 
> She smiled then, and extended her hand. “Hi. Mary Jane Watson, associate editor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story comes full circle back to You Can Always Stay At My Place. This is technically the end of the 'Tying Up Loose Ends' storyline. Anything further in this series is simply my speculation on where the next game could be going (though with more adult-y material than Sony and Marvel would ever allow) (2021!! I need to write!!) I have a destination in mind. But I'm not sure if everyone will want to join me on this ride. Yes, I posted and deleted the chapter. Something happened with the formatting and I want to make this as close to perfect as I can.

Peter claimed their usual table at Stan’s. He settled his bag in the booth next to him and dug out his laptop to mess around while he waited for Mary Jane. He’d thought he saw a few replies from a few places he’d put an application before he’d gotten off the subway. Then he’d been distracted by Mary Jane’s excitement and hadn’t been able to dig into the emails, which did wonders for his nerves. Mary Jane’s excitement helped with that as well, with the anticipation she’d shared before Robbie had called her into his office, and then she’d gone silent. Peter flinched at the number of ‘not interested’ emails he had in his received, or places that offered a pittance of a salary. He stopped before he choked on his disappointment, and flipped over to work on improvements to the suit. The waitress dropped off the fries he’d ordered, and he snagged one absently as he searched for a more flexible answer to the white spider. Something that didn’t irritate his skin quite so much.

The door jangled open and drew Peter’s attention. A smile lit his face as he saw Mary Jane’s excitement in her every move. He slid out of the booth and stood up to meet her at the edge of the tables. He tried to measure the result of her meeting in her face, but she kept her expression spectacularly neutral. “So…?” he pretty much demanded.

She smiled then, and extended her hand. “Hi. Mary Jane Watson, associate editor.”

Peter’s mouth fell open and he seized her hand to shake it. “Congrats! I knew you could do it.” He wanted to pull her into a hug, but that seemed a tad too forward and boyfriend-y for the current state of their relationship.

She grinned back and thanked him before she took the booth across from him. “What about you? Find a job yet?” She munched on the fry she’d stolen from his basket. 

“Oh, no, but, uh...” Peter paused, taking the opportunity to close his laptop while the waitress spoke to Mary Jane. He could feel the smile melting off his face as he remembered all the rejections sitting in his inbox. He snorted a defeated laugh, “I was actually considering a career change.”

Mary Jane frowned a bit. “Hm?”

So he tried to turn it into a joke. “Yeah. I think I might want to become a chef.” There might actually be a future there. A spider-themed restaurant waiting for his innovation!

Mary Jane coughed and laughed. “I’m sorry. No, it’s… you’re a scientist. A good one.”

Peter’s face tightened at the word scientist, and he laughed again. “The last project I worked on, I created a monster octopus that almost destroyed the city. So...”

She frowned down at his hands. “Yeah….” Then her gaze swept up to his eyes and she smiled again. “I mean, you do make a hell of a chicken curry.”

Peter chuckled, remembering her scolding him for the clothes he’d left on her floor and her later crooning over the curry he’d made her. “I do.” He smirked still rolling the memory of her sitting on her couch torn between laughter and frustration. “Still working my dumplings, though.”

Mary Jane laughed at that. Her eyes turned to the backpack next to him. “Going camping?”

“Oh...” he sat back and tried to wave her concern away. “My new place isn’t going to be ready for about a week, so I’m going to be crashing with Miles for the next few nights.”

“Oh.” She squinted at the bag and then at him. She took a deep breath and her eyes dropped to the table. “You know, you can always stay at my place...” 

Peter couldn’t even blink, his eyes widened and his heart thrummed and he couldn’t move because he didn’t want to find out this was a dream. 

“I mean,” Her hand traced an idle line along the grain of the table, and she couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “Only if you want to.”

‘Want to?’ Peter sat forward, hands gesticulating just above the table. “No. I mean, yes! I mean, no I don’t not want to, meaning I do want to… but only if you do.” In what universe would he not want to stay with MJ.

Her smile brightened his day as she leaned toward him, voice dropping into a husky whisper as she told him, “I never stopped wanting to.”

Peter met her eyes, unable to look away, resisting the urge to pinch himself. Convinced it would all come crashing down around him. “Me neither,” he breathed. Hadn’t he been trying to get back with her this whole time?

Her hands pressed against the table and she was leaning toward him.

Peter caught his thigh against the edge of the table, too close for comfort to sensitive parts, but that was unimportant when his lips met hers. Warm. Soft. Tasting like the raspberry lip balm he remembered. His eyes slid close, and he slid a hand over the table to ground himself with his fingers on her skin. Sweet. She tasted so sweet to him as she pressed harder against his mouth, stealing his breath before she broke away to smile into his eyes.

He didn’t let go of her hand when they slid back into their seats. “I should call Miles,” he realized aloud, “and let him know about the change of plans.”

Her quiet smile made him feel like an idiot for voicing that thought aloud, but her thumb stroking the sensitive stretch of skin along the inside of his knuckle chased any further thought away. He told himself to calm down, and that she might not mean that. 

He wouldn’t remember what they ordered, or even what little they talked about. His mind kept returning to the fact that she’d invited him to her house for the night. More than one night? Would this be a regular thing? Oh god, he hoped it would. But that would be expecting too much. _Peter, you’re getting ahead of yourself. _She could just as easily have been offering her couch as a place on her bed.__

__Her flirting did nothing to ease his nervous anticipation and it made his jokes fall flat to his ears though it only made her smile wider at him. He wanted to kiss those lips again, to bury his face into her neck and smell her. He let himself admire the sweep of her lashes as they brushed her skin, the arch of her eyebrow, the fall of her coat over her shoulders and chest._ _

__The wail of sirens drew his attention away, and she sighed and declared her lunchbreak over anyways._ _

__He stood and grabbed his backpack, digging cash out of his pockets to leave on the table for the waiter. He paused by her when she wouldn’t let go of his hand. She tugged him down and pecked his lips, sliding her mouth over his in a way that made him regret having to leave so soon. Regret the call of his responsibility._ _

__“See you tonight?” she murmured against his lips._ _

__Peter gulped, but a smile crossed his lips and her eyes softened. “Definitely.” He wouldn’t miss it for the world. Maybe the end of the world, but not just the world._ _

__Another police car flew by and so Peter knew he had to leave as well. He ducked into an alley and scaled the wall. He stripped his shirt and pants off and stuffed them into his backpack, pulling his mask and gloves out of the front pocket of his pack._ _

__Mary Jane had invited him over!_ _

__He tossed the backpack onto a wall, throwing out a blob of webbing stick it to the wall._ _

__And she’d kissed him! Him!_ _

__Peter took a running leap to the next roof, following the echo of sirens in the streets. He couldn’t help the whoop that burst out of his throat._ _

__He shouldn’t get too excited though, right? Invited to her apartment could mean sleeping on her couch. But she’d kissed him! That was a good thing right? Especially after that New Years kiss (and Christmas, but she’d run away after...) He should be prepared either way. She didn’t have to know unless, you know… They…._ _

___Nope. Pete. Don’t get yourself excited for no reason.__ _

__But MJ didn’t kiss friends like that._ _

__He was going to be stressing this the rest of the day, wasn’t he?_ _

__That’s a yup._ _

__

__~*~*~*~*~_ _

__The walls of the labs hung suspended over a lake of poison drowning Manhattan. Spider-man leapt from the barely visible tops of the building, heading for F.E.A.S.T. Octavius beat him there, his tentacles writing and snapping their claws. Electricity crackled across his Vulture Wings and the Scorpion tail coiled over the Rhino’s horn. All of them came out of Otto’s screaming face. He had Peter in his tentacles, one of the claws impaling him._ _

__Peter couldn’t get loose, he was drowning in the poison dripping from Octavius’ open, screaming mouth._ _

__“PEEEEETEEEEEEERRRRR!”_ _

__His super strength couldn’t free him, he couldn’t get a grip on Octavius’ lips and he plunged into the burning sea of poison._ _

__Peter woke up disoriented._ _

__He hung upside down from the ceiling for some weird reason. Cold sweat drenched his naked skin. He shuddered against the ceilng, trying to catch his breath as though he’d just swung the entire length of the city fifty times non-stop._ _

__His neck crawled with the feeling of eyes on him. He glanced down and found Mary Jane pressed against the doorjamb of her bedroom, her eyes wary._ _

__“Peter, you with me up there?”_ _

__Peter shook his head, not an answer, instead a gesture to shake the cobwebs out of his ears and head. He shook, and his arms and legs cramped from his hold on the ceiling. So he let his feet go and swung down to the floor, bending his knees with the impact. His legs didn’t want to hold him, but he got to the bed rather than land in an embarrassing mess on the floor._ _

__“Pete?” Mary Jane hadn’t moved from her spot by the door. Good girl._ _

__Peter still worked on breathing, his elbows on his knees, and his forehead in his hands. He didn’t trust himself yet to invite her over. His hands clenched into fists against his head, and he had to remind himself that it was a bad dream. A nightmare._ _

__Mary Jane’s apartment. He was in Mary Jane’s apartment. He sat on her bed. Naked._ _

__Okay. That helped. It reminded Peter of what he’d been doing before he’d fallen asleep. No screaming octo-scorpions in that. Just soft skin, warmth, pleasure. And Mary Jane. “Pete?” Mary Jane asked again, her voice soft, as though she were afraid to disturb him. Peter lifted his head to run a critical eye over the bare skin her sexy nightgown left visible. “Did I hurt you?” She’d been standing there… had he scared her?_ _

__“No, I know better than to mess with you when you’re like that. You okay?”_ _

__Knew better because he had hurt her once, wrapped in a night terror. Left a bruise on her cheek, and her ribs. She’d had to yell at him to stop following her around like a lost puppy afterwards._ _

__She stepped closer then, hand raised, but she didn’t cross the whole distance. Still wary. “Shh. Don’t think about it Pete. It didn’t happen.”_ _

__God, she knew his mind too well._ _

__“I’m awake, I’m awake.” Because he wanted the touch she offered._ _

__She slid into his space as though his words had pulled her like a magnet. Mary Jane stroked his hair and pulled his head against her belly._ _

__Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath of her salty skin. He could still smell the remnants of their earlier activities tucked away in the curls that lay hidden under the silky fabric his cheek rested against. His arms circled her waist almost of their own accord and he rubbed his cheek into the soft flesh of her belly. “Sorry if I woke you.”_ _

__Her hands wandered over his head, down to his shoulders and up his arms. “You were still in the bed when I got up for the bathroom.” Back down his arms to his shoulders and through his hair, her hands firm, soothing._ _

__The touch of her hands drew a groan from his throat. Made him want to snuggle her closer. Kiss her belly through the night gown, her hip, her thigh. He rested his cheek against her again, tilting his head to look up at her face._ _

__“Do you want to talk about it?”_ _

__He shook his head, turning his head to rest the other side of his face against her. “Nothing new.”_ _

__Her hands drew lazy circles on his shoulders, then slid up his arms again. “All right.” She shifted in his arms, curled over him and pressed her lips to the top of his head._ _

__Peter bent his neck, so that he could catch her lips with his._ _

__She chuckled into his lips, her hands cupping his face._ _

__When she didn’t pull away, and instead kissed him back, Peter tugged her into his lap so she didn’t have to bend so awkwardly for him. He curled a hand around her neck, and stroked his thumb over her jaw. Her hair tickled his fingers and face. Her lithe body writhed against him and excited his pulse._ _

__She broke the kiss, her fingers still on his face. “You know, I was going to go back to sleep.”_ _

__He grinned, her fingers smooshing his cheeks together. “I’m not actually stopping you.”_ _

__She snorted, and kissed him again, hungrily sucking at his tongue and lip._ _

__Peter let his hands wander over her silken gown, grounding himself with the curve of her breasts in his palms, the slide of her thighs in his lap, her soft hips pressed against his aching member. He reveled in her gasp into his mouth, when he slid his fingers between her legs and into her folds of tender flesh. He stroked the delicate point of her clitoris, and then went deeper, tucking his first two fingers into her moist flesh. He carefully dragged his fingers in and out, using just the lightest drag of his sticky fingers to pull at her inner flesh._ _

__Mary Jane gasped and melted against him, her hands clinging to his neck and shoulders, her breathing quickened with her excitement. Her mouth moved from his lips to his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, until she pressed her forehead against the round of his shoulder and whimpered, spreading her legs to his hand._ _

__He tugged at her gown with his free hand, careful not to pull too hard, waiting for her to shift her hips out of the way so he could lift it over her head._ _

__A groan squeezed out of his throat as he ran his eyes over her naked body, the way her back curved toward him, the jiggle of her breasts and their pert nipples. Peter bent his neck to run his tongue between her breasts; to nibble down to and suck on the point of her nipple, massaging her other breast with his free hand._ _

__Her nails scraped over his back, and her chest heaved beneath his mouth._ _

__He wanted to lay her down and make love to her; push his need in and in and let her warmth wrap around him. He ached, his penis pulsing to life where it sat pressed to her hips._ _

__Mary Jane suddenly slid out of his lap, and he almost whimpered until he saw her kneel on the floor between his legs. She tilted a smile up at him, eyes full of mischief. Then she took his shaft in hand and closed her mouth over his erection like a freakin’ lollipop._ _

__He couldn’t take his eyes off her, devouring the sight of her kneeling in front of him, the curve of both hips and shoulders, her hair spilling over her back, the bob of her head. He groaned, unable to think of anything but the sweet warmth wrapped around his cock, the press of her tongue against his head, the careful scrape of teeth as she slid her mouth down his length and pulled back up. Peter dropped his elbows onto his thighs, pressing hard against the urge to thrust into her mouth. He touched her head, stroking her tangle of hair, and the skin of her neck and shoulders._ _

__Her hand slid down and she fingered his testicles._ _

__He jumped at that touch, hissing at her gagged cough. She didn’t stop, though. Her lips building the pressure of need in his waist, his breath sharp against his pounding heart. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her astride his hips and lock them together with his desire. He recalled (in some distant part of his brain that could still actually think) her complaint that he was too silent earlier that night. So he opened his mouth and let the pressure in his chest moan out of his throat. Let the sweep of her tongue elicit a whimper from his lips._ _

__She paused and glanced up at him, a smile dancing in her eye. God she was so beautiful._ _

__She brought him to the edge, and then she stopped._ _

__“No,” he pleaded. He was so close._ _

__She stood and urged him further back on the bed. Oh, this was okay, then. He could do this._ _

__She climbed on top of him, straddling him between her knees, hips swaying as she pushed his back to the mattress. Yes. Yes. Yes. This would be good too, he thought hazily, his hands sliding over her soft thighs instead of pulling her closer. He liked this position too._ _

__“Pete,” she breathed into his ear, “you have a choice.”_ _

__Choice?_ _

__Maybe he heard her wrong, with his excited pulse pounding in his ear, distracted by her body pressed to him as she was._ _

__“So,” she said, while her hand traced idle lines on his chest, and she squeezed his hips between her knees, “we can go to sleep.” Oh god, not yet please. “Or we can have a conversation.”_ _

__Peter felt something fizzle in his brain. Conversation?? Now?! “Conversation?” he said when he managed to override his hindbrain that only wanted one thing._ _

__“Oh, nothing much. Just something that mildly irritated me today.”_ _

__Peter blinked and shook his head, suddenly having to rack his brain over her words. “Ir-Irritated? You?” he said, voice squeaking with his confusion. His heart raced again, but this time with panic as he tried to find anything that suggested she was unhappy while he had Mary Jane pressed against the wall, or when she had given him that first delightful blowjob, and he had returned the favor before making love to her on the bed. Was she mad he’d fallen asleep? She had first, though._ _

__“Mildly, irritated,” she corrected him, leaning over him so that she could meet his gaze and drop a kiss his cheek._ _

__He gestured at his face. “I hope you can see my confusion here?”_ _

__Mary Jane smiled, way too easily for someone who was supposed to be angry with him. Good grief, he didn’t understand women. “Consider everything before this as laying the groundwork for our conversation.”_ _

__Peter felt stupid as he only seemed to when talking to Mary Jane. “I don’t understand.”_ _

__She watched her fingers walk over his chest, her voice dropping to a sexy husk. “Are you worried about me kicking you out right now?”_ _

__There was that panic again, because no, he hadn’t even thought of that. He couldn’t quite speak, so he shook his head._ _

__“See, groundwork.” She glanced at his face before dropping a lingering kiss on his lips. Her legs shifted against him, and she her hips brushed against his aching member. A teasing slide of moist flesh against his straining cock. She sat up and back, her hands on his chest and stomach, where she liked to trace the lines of muscles he had there. Her breasts dipped and swelled with the press of her arms and his hands ached to touch the soft mounds. She lifted one of her pert little brows. “Of course, if you don’t want to talk, we both know you can just take what you want.”_ _

__The suggestion sent a hot blaze across his nerves. How could she even think he’d do something like that? When had he ever… He noticed the smile on her face, and realized she was trying – and succeeding – in getting a rise out of him. “That would be cheating, I take it,” he said, trying to wrangle the flash of anger back into control._ _

__She settled her weight on his thighs, the fingers of one hand playing in the thin carpet of hairs nestled beneath his standing erection. “It absolutely would.”_ _

__“So… conversation?” Which would be difficult enough with her naked on top of him, much less with the drag of her fingers over the head of his cock or down his shaft and over his balls. He did want to just roll her over and…_ _

__“Three months.”_ _

__When she didn’t say anything else, and her hands stopped and sat on her thighs, he realized that she was waiting on a response from him._ _

__“Otto?”_ _

__She shook her head, her hair sliding around her neck and shoulders, but she stroked him again, just the gentle glide of her finger tips. That stopped after a moment._ _

__Oh god, this was the game. “D-Devil’s Breath?”_ _

__“No,” she murmured, and she touched him again, wrapping her hand around his shaft and squeezing._ _

__Peter moaned, shifting his hips to push into her grip._ _

__She stopped. “Stay still, Pete. We’re still talking.”_ _

__“God.” Three months ago? “Fisk?” “Not even close,” she told him, but she shifted against his thighs, and he couldn’t help but be aware of the slide of her moist crevice over his thighs._ _

__Would she let him touch her? Peter curled his fingers over her knees. What else? “The auction house?”_ _

__She didn’t push his hands away, but she took her hands off him. “Spider-man is not the problem, Pete.”_ _

__Oh. His throat closed on his next guess. “May?” he choked, unable to help the tears that stung her eyes._ _

__She hissed, and leaned over him, her lips brushing his cheek. “Close. She knew, right?”_ _

__Peter curled his arm over her shoulder. “She knew that I’m Spider-man.”_ _

__Mary Jane hummed, and poked his side, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Didn’t I just say that Spider-man is not the problem? You were staying at F.E.A.S.T. three months ago? May knew?”_ _

__Peter slid his other hand over her waist, lifting his head to catch her lips again. Sating his hunger with the plunge of his tongue into her mouth._ _

__Mary Jane pulled away instead, waiting._ _

__“Yes,” he choked. May knew everything about Peter, knew his horrible finances, and how he missed MJ. Knew he spent his free time swinging around the city, even._ _

__She ran her fingers over his belly, almost tickling him, if he wasn’t so focused on the soft flesh pressed against his thighs. “What happened to your apartment, Pete?”_ _

__Wait, he might have figured this out. “Are you mad because I didn’t tell you I’d lost the apartment?”_ _

__“Irritated,” she said again. “Not mad. Mad would be us having this conversation on the couch. But yeah. You were homeless, Pete. For three months. And I didn’t know. I thought we were friends!” Her fists rested on her hips, and her frown sent a slight chill through him._ _

__Peter froze, trying to scramble for something that would not end with him on the couch, or worse kicked out. He’d even take the blue balls if Mary Jane just wanted to sleep instead of… “I had Aunt May’s house. I wasn’t...”_ _

__She pressed her finger to his lips. Were those tears? “You shouldn’t have had to stay at your Aunt’s house because you didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She leaned forward again, replacing her finger with her lips. “I should have dragged you back to Manhattan, screw whatever you wanted. It was not good for you to stay there.”_ _

__“I-”_ _

__She kissed him silent again. “Or made you stay at Aunt Anna’s. Since you didn’t want to be in Manhattan.”_ _

__“That wasn’t-”_ _

__She rubbed against him, brushing against his still straining cock. “Maybe I should have stayed at May’s place with you instead.”_ _

__“You did enough. I wasn’t trying to be a burden.”_ _

__She kissed him again, her tongue probing his mouth, her hands in his hair, on his chest, her thighs clenching over his waist. “I’d tell you if you’re a bother. Don’t think I wouldn’t,” she growled. She kissed his throat, his jaw. “Why didn’t you say anything? Not when it first happened, and then not even after three months.”_ _

__Peter stroked Mary Jane’s thighs, his pulse pounding again. “We’d just reconnected, and you’d been working late that first night. You were still working, after I’d found out about the eviction. I thought...” He wallowed in his embarrassment all over again. “I almost called you, MJ. But it was just too soon after we’d started talking again.”_ _

__“And?” She sat back again, her hand wrapped around his shaft. Oh. Oh, yes. She hovered over him, poised to let him in._ _

__He whimpered when she didn’t press down._ _

__“And?” she prompted again._ _

__Peter couldn’t help the scrabble of his hands against her hips, but he didn’t force her down. Cheating. No cheating. “The bomb. Everything fell apart. Oh god, yes.”_ _

__Mary Jane had pushed him in as he talked and she flexed around him, the most intimate hug and kiss combined. She blinked down at him, her furrowed brows and teary eyes not the face he wanted her to be making while she shifted her hips above him._ _

__“MJ, please,” he pleaded, not sure if he was begging her to drop the subject or to start moving, or not to cry. Maybe all of it._ _

__She didn’t object when he moved, or when he lifted her up and then down his shaft._ _

__“Don’t do it again, Pete,” she told him, pressing her hands into his stomach, lifting her hips. “If you get evicted, you tell me. Even if I can’t take you in, right then. You don’t have to face it alone. You are not alone.”_ _

__She moved then. Really moved. Leaning over him, with her weight pressed into his stomach so she could bounce her hips and flex her thighs. Her vibrant green eyes slid close and she gasped when his hands squeezed her breasts, her thighs._ _

__He thrust upwards, dropping his hands as the pressure built within him again. He clenched his stomach against her weight, no problem for his enhanced strength. Peter wanted to kiss her, but he wouldn’t object to the wonderful view of her face tense in concentration, her lips pressed together, brows pressed together, eyes closed, mouth agape with her panting breath. He would make do, which in truth was an understatement. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, honestly. He wanted to see the moonlight on her skin, the gentle sweep of her breasts as they bounced with her motions. See the slide of her hips over his erection, his skin moist from her excitement._ _

__“Yes,” he hissed, risking a stroke of his palm over her thighs, daring to let his fingers curl over her soft leg._ _

__She moaned at him. Leaned down and kissed his lips again._ _

__His vision exploded with white, and he slammed his hips against her, his hand cramping where he left it on her thigh as he refused to let it close. He gasped and groaned as the pressure released into her, his cock pulsing and aching with the release._ _

__She bore down on him. “Oh,” she gasped._ _

__Peter dropped his hand, worried he’d been hurting her._ _

__But her eyes focused on nothing, and sweat broke out on her skin. “Oh, I can feel that.”_ _

__Then Peter had the distinct pleasure of watching Mary Jane shatter on top of him. Her sweet flesh clenched around him, her hips grinding on him as she gasped with her head tilted back and her hair sweeping over her shoulders._ _

__He hadn’t even realized she’d leaned down, her hands still pressed into his stomach. “Good,” she said, inexplicably._ _

__Until he realized she was taking the word she’d drawn out of him as a response to their conversation. “That...” he huffed as he tried to catch his breath. “Cheating.”_ _

__She chuckled and lifted her hips so that his penis flopped wetly out of her. She grabbed the towel from where he’d dropped it on the floor and wiped at him, before reaching down and dabbing at herself._ _

__God she looked so hot like that._ _

__She smirked at him, as though reading his mind. Then she dropped the towel back on the floor and groaned as she slid back under the covers. Though she pulled them over him as well._ _

__When his brain started working again, Peter pulled MJ and all her soft curves against him, one arm sliding under her neck. He stroked her cheek with his other hand, admiring the way the moonlight that filtered through the curtains played over her skin, flushed from their lovemaking. Her soft breasts squished up against him, and he could see the pink nub of a nipple almost flush where it lay against his skin. Looking down at her made him twitch and swell with desire again._ _

__He met her green eyes as she arched a red brow at him, and her delicious lips curved upward. “I need to get some more sleep, Pete.”_ _

__He took a deep breath, but that part of his body had a mind of its own. “I know,” he told her. He smoothed a tangled lock of hair he’d noticed sticking up from her head. “So, would it be too forward to hope that this isn’t going to be a one night thing?”_ _

__Even though she was the one who said she needed to go back to sleep, her eyes didn’t droop at all. She tilted her head against his shoulder as she regarded him with serious eyes at odds with the smile. “Maybe. Would you like it to be a more than one night thing?”_ _

__Peter pulled her hip closer flush against him so that her leg slid over his waist. “Y-Yes. Yes. I’d like that very much,” he said, his desperate need stuttering his words. Mary Jane was all Peter had left now. Even before he’d lost May, he would have said yes without a blink of hesitation. He’d taken her for granted, he’d realized. “MJ, I want this to be an every night thing. Or as many nights as we can, you know, considering our jobs. I mean,” he stammered again as her smile slid off her face, “if that’s what would make you happy. Cause it really would make me happy, just to make you happy. You know I’m still crazy about y-”_ _

__Her finger on his lips brought his rambling to a halt. Her fingers slid from his lips, along his cheek, catching in his hair. She pulled his head close and pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss that quickly morphed into something more exciting._ _

__Peter could do nothing less than respond to the growing passion in her kiss. She needed to sleep though – she had work in the morning – so he resisted the urge to pull her astride him again or roll MJ onto her back so he could make love to her again._ _

__The kiss cooled back into the press of lips (Peter couldn’t consider it chaste with the heat that kiss had kindled in his loins) before she drew away._ _

__Mary Jane smoothed his hair back and cuddled her cheek into his shoulder. “I guess we’re at a bit of an impasse then.”_ _

__Peter blinked, processing her words and coming up with the tingle in his lips and the burning need to slide into her. “Impasse? What-”_ _

__“Mmhmm.” Her eyes slid closed, and her shoulders relaxed. “I just want to make you happy, too. So it looks like you’re stuck with me.”_ _

__A grin flashed across his face at her words. He couldn’t help it. He rested his hand on her waist, stroking the soft flesh under his thumb. “I think I can live with that,” he said to the top of her head. Peter closed his eyes, and took another measured breath against the burning heat that still pulsed in his waist._ _

__“Oh!” Mary Jane jolted her head up. “I need to break up with Spider-man.”_ _

__Peter frowned, his brows furrowing. He tried to puzzle what she meant. “What?” he opted for when he couldn’t make sense of her words._ _

__She nodded and scrunched her face. “So, apparently Miles has gotten it into his head that since I have Spidey’s number then we absolutely must be dating!”_ _

__Peter covered his mouth, but the snicker exploded between his fingers anyways._ _

__She scowled prettily up at him. “Oh, sure, yuk it up why don’t you? You just _thwip thwip_ and away and leave me making excuses.” Her eyes narrowed, but Peter didn’t miss the smile that played at her lips. “Did you know that he thinks I broke up with you so that I can go out with you and now by flirting with you, I must be cheating with you.”_ _

__Peter closed his eyes, trying to mash the laughter down for her sake. “That is ridiculous when you put it like that.”_ _

__“Tell me about it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to twist my head around it since November.”__

__Peter managed to get his chuckling under control, but a grin still spread across his face. “So how are we doing this? Do you need Spidey to call you during the move and leave you in tears? Or is it a peaceful break up, due to irreconcilable differences.”_ _

__“Leave _me_ in tears?” She grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling. “Messy break up obviously, but Spidey’s the one driven to tears because I caught him messing around with Black Cat behind my back.”_ _

__“Agh,” Peter scoffed. “Spidey wouldn’t cheat on anyone. You can’t go around ruining my rep like that.”_ _

__She squirmed against him, her leg sliding up his waist and sending his heart into his throat as she pressed against him in ways that sent the blood coursing through his veins again. “I’ve seen that picture the Bugle published of Black Cat with her hands all over Spidey.” Her fingers traced his muscles in imitation of that infamous picture._ _

__He took her wrist and pulled her hand away from his skin. “If you keep that up, it’ll take even longer before you go to sleep.”_ _

__She struggled against his grip, and he let go rather than fight her. Her grin took a wicked tilt and she trailed her nails over his chest again, circling his nipple with her pinkie. Then she squirmed against him again._ _

__He pinned her beneath him before he realized what he was doing, her errant hand above her head. “MJ,” he said through the tight need in his throat. “I thought you were tired.”_ _

__She shifted her hips beneath him rather than answer, and leaned up to kiss him._ _

__Peter kissed her back, he couldn’t help himself. He would take any chance for a kiss from Mary Jane. Especially with her pliant body so willingly beneath his, and her looking so helpless and willing. Vulnerable as she never was with her clothes on. Beautiful even with her thickest coat hiding her curves. “MJ...” he moaned at her._ _

__“Shh.” Mary Jane stroked his hair back, as she always seemed to when she thought he needed comforting. She slid a little more under him, settling her legs on either side of his waist. “Shhhh.”_ _

__Peter couldn’t resist her invitation, then. Just as he would take any chance for a kiss. He pressed her into the mattress as he slid inside her. The feel of her wrapped around him, warm and moist and oh so good had him shivering with the threads of his controls clenched in his quaking muscles._ _

__Her teeth on his ear sent another shock through him and his control slipped through his fingers for a moment._ _

__The bed creaked threateningly under them, and recalled Peter to himself._ _

__She gasped when he sucked on her throat. “Pete!” she squeaked, pushing his face away. “Not there.”_ _

__He licked the hickey he’d left in retribution for the nip on his ear, and went to work leaving another on her breast. He thought he’d accomplished two more when she she shifted beneath him again, and all he could think about was the connection between there bodies and the feel of her beneath him. His control slipped again as the tension in his body reached its peak._ _

__He grabbed a fistful of sheets rather than any part of Mary Jane. He buried his face in the pillow next to her head, all too aware of the bite of her nails in his back and shoulders, and the hard press of her thighs around his waist. Her panting in his ears sent all new desperation into his rocking against her. A few strokes more and he tumbled over the edge, his vision exploded with stars, his muscles locked into endless spasms and she tightened around his cock as if she intended to draw his orgasm out as long as she could._ _

__He loved it._ _

__He loved her._ _

__God, he loved Mary Jane so damn much that he didn’t think he could last another six months without her smile brightening his day. Without her voice on the other end of the phone while he swung through the city. Without her encouragement to get out of the house and put on the costume. Without her telling him that everything would be okay and sometimes there could be no right answer to a hard decision._ _

__He didn’t relax, even though he lay limp over her. Peter slid his arms around her and held her to him, letting her pillow case catch the tears he hadn’t meant to loose._ _

__Her lips brushed his cheek, and he could hear the slide of her tongue as she tasted the tear she’d caught. Her arms tightened around him, and she pressed a hard kiss just under his eye. “I’m here for you Pete. I’ll always be right here for you.”_ _

__“I know.” Peter squeezed his arms a little tighter around her, trying to be so careful not to go too far, and let himself hide his tears in her neck and shoulder. “I-I’m happy.”_ _

__Mary Jane’s cheek rested against his hair, smoothing his hair back with one hand while she clung to him with her other arm around his shoulders and even her legs around his waist. “Happy?” she said in a tight voice, and he realized his hair felt damp where her cheek rested.”_ _

__“I love you, MJ,” he said into her throat, voice choked with his tears. “You make me so happy.” Peter lifted his head and kissed her, trying to pour all his gratitude and love into her through his mouth against her._ _

__“I love you, too, Pete,” she told him when he finally pulled away, She blinked tears away from her green eyes. “I always have, even when we didn’t see each other. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t. I told you, right? You aren’t alone anymore.” Mary Jane’s fingers brushed the remnants of his tears away. “Though I have to say, it’s kinda a blow to my sense of self-esteem when my boyfriend starts crying after we have sex.”_ _

__Peter snorted, though his mind latched onto the word ‘boyfriend’ and clung to it with all his considerable strength. “Sorry. It’s not you.”_ _

__“Better not be, Tiger.” Her arms slid around his neck, and her fingers slid through his hair. “Even when it is me, it’s still you.”_ _

__Peter managed a laugh at that. “That’s true.” He slid off her, suddenly aware of the weight of his body on his arms and worried about how heavy he was on her._ _

__Mary Jane sighed and curled against him. “I am going to sleep now, if you don’t mind.”_ _

__Peter tucked his hand behind his head. “Sleep well MJ.” He closed his eyes, but they didn’t stay that way. He found himself staring at the ceiling, until the echo of sirens reached his ears._ _

__He thought MJ had fallen asleep, but she moaned and sniffed. Pat his chest and turned away from him. “Go save people, Spider-man.”_ _

__Peter blinked at her, remembering when she used to grumble at him for leaving her alone in the bed. Pete leaned over Mary Jane ostensibly to kiss her cheek, but he also took the opportunity to check her expression._ _

__Her cheeks lifted at his glance. She rolled back over to level a speaking look. “Go. I’ll actually be able to sleep when you go.” She kissed his cheek and soothed the sting from her words. “Go. Ward off your nightmares.”_ _

__Peter smiled at her, and hopped off the bed. “I don’t deserve you.”_ _

__“You sure don’t,” she quipped back at him. “You’re still here and I can’t sleep.”_ _

__“I’m working on it,” Peter said, already. He didn’t miss the hints of green through her hair and lashes that followed him as he put on his suit. His mask dangled from his hand as he paused by the bed and bent over to kiss her cheek again. “I’ll see you later?”_ _

__“Mmhmm. I’ll call you.” Her beautiful green eyes finally slid close and her breath evened out._ _

__Peter couldn’t resist one more caress before he opened the bedroom window and leapt out into the night._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still amazed that this took so long from start to finish to complete these four chapters, and that's not mentioning getting this one chapter uploaded. I wanted to give it a review with a fresh pair of eyes before it went out. 
> 
> The below notes were written while I was writing the whole fic, so apologies if I'm repeating myself in here.
> 
> So when MJ is meeting Peter at the restaurant at the end of the game, it kinda felt like it’d been a regular thing between them. So, I made it to become a little bit of a check up, with her making sure he was doing okay, as well as a good reminder that he wasn’t alone, because Pete doesn’t really have much besides casual acquaintances. Which would have been a natural progression of their relationship to lead up to that kiss at the end there.
> 
> I feel I should note that nearly anything after these 4 chapters. will be marked Alternative Universe, because I’m going to start speculating about the rest of this universe and eventually into sequel territory. I sooooo badly wanted to start my speculation in here. The desire was strong, but I resisted. However I will be retconning things that are not explicitly mentioned here, but also not not mentioned? As far as my brain is concerned this is the end of TULE part 1, but I’m not creating another series for the rest. So yeah, this is going to be moved to Part 3 of the series, in ‘WMAtSWP’s place.

**Author's Note:**

> Argh! So I said next month last month, and next month is just about over and I don't want to put it off to another next month. Also, in case you haven't seen my previous notes, this monster outgrew it's britches and needed to be broken up. Four chapters later, I would have normally posted this one by now, but I followed' Spider-man's Girlfriend's' pattern in not writing this thing in freaking order. So Chapter 4 has been done for a while, and chapter 3 is still giving me hell. I wanted to post this before my work schedule went ballistic due to month closing. I'm still tweaking it, and there may not be an update for two-ish weeks. Won't be longer than that though, because Ch. 2 is pretty much ready.


End file.
